Purgatory
by Noacat
Summary: AeriSeph. Rated for Language, Violence, and Adult Themes. The afterlife is not as it should be. What should have been a gift, has become a burden. When one is alone, even paradise can become a prison. Editing.
1. Everything Right is Wrong Again

_Heaven is Place_

_A place where nothing_

_Nothing ever happens_

_--The Talking Heads_

The bright summer sky stretched over her as a welcoming breeze rippled through the sun-dappled field. The long grass bowed its head in reverence as this simulacrum of life did its best to give peace. For the departed, this illusion was a way station because most mortal souls had a hard time giving up life, as they knew it. It was normal to spend some time in the in-between and after a time the departed would adjust and move on. There was more happiness to be had as a pure soul, without the constraints of mortality. It was supposed to be heaven but for one soul it held no joy, no peace. All it held was emptiness. Aeris Gainsborough was not happy and consequently, she had not moved on.

It had been three years since she'd given her life to save her home, given up all she knew and loved to save the planet. Three long, bitter years...in the world of the in-between it seemed much longer. Her death had been a willing sacrifice. Aeris knew very well what she'd be leaving behind but she still did it because it was the right thing to do: The life of the one to save the lives of many. Aeris had thought she'd made peace with her decision and she was more than ready to accept the consequences.

Once she'd ascended, she'd found out how wrong she was. There was too much of her life she'd left unlived, her hopes and dreams lay unfulfilled. She had tried so hard to be happy, to find away to ascend but it eluded her and, as time passed, she became more and more reluctant to find a way to leave the illusion behind. This allowed doubt to take hold of her.

The Promised Land was filled with such peace and contentment; the powers that be were baffled by the former flower girl's behavior. For the average soul, they welcomed heaven's gift and lost themselves in pure joy, leaving behind their earthly form to float aimlessly through the ether. Aeris was not an average soul and she had not let go. She steadfastly refused to move on and by her will alone, resisted the temptation to ascend to the next level. She was waiting for the one she'd left behind: Cloud. His name evoked sweet memories and regret. It would not be heaven without him and she was determined to stay in the in-between until he came.

Unable to contact him from heaven and without any of her earthly possessions, she used her memories of him as an anchor to give her own physical manifestation strength. Everyday she would wander the in-between and recount all that she could remember about him. His eyes, the way his lips would curl up so fetchingly when he smiled at her, the even sound of his voice, and that unruly mop of blond hair. She'd often tease him about using more hair care products than she did. The memory made her smile sadly. And so, Aeris wandered the fields of the Promised Land, attached to these memories and unable to fully integrate into her new reality. The joyful girl her companions had known was a shadow of her former self. She was lifeless and incomplete; nothing more than a wandering soul.

The other cetra around her flitted in and out to check up on her, as they had the benefit of being able to switch between realms, unlike human souls. Aeris too would have this gift, if she had accepted her place in heaven, as she should have. Her mother, Ifalna was especially concerned and became increasingly worried about her daughter's stability. Aeris could not remain a wandering soul, not without unpleasant consequences, and Ifalna had used all her resources to try and convince the girl to move on. Ifalna understood the power of love, but it did not behoove the young girl to wait needlessly. Aeris had much of her father in her, like him she could be stubborn and immoveable when it came to her desires. Having given up so much, Aeris felt that there should have been more of a reward than... this.

Her reward would not come. At least, not the one she really wanted. Heaven rarely resurrected those who'd given their lives to serve it. The only gift Aeris was to receive was an honorary spot in the highest choir. It saddened the elder cetra to see their youngest and most blessed member suffer so. There was nothing they could do, the planet had not failed in its duty to their daughter-- _she_ did not want to receive its gift.

It was more than just her determination to wait for her lost love, but the hate she held in her heart for the one she felt did this to her. He'd forced her hand. If it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself in the first place. His name was hateful to her and she refused to say it out loud but it was always behind her lips whenever she counted her regrets. _He_ had taken her life in more than one way. _He_ had taken everything from her.

Deep in her heart she knew it was wrong to place all the blame on one head, but she was still human. A broken heart needs a reason for its grief. A focal point that leads to the source of its sorrow and for Aeris this was Sephiroth. She had always prided herself on being a forgiving person but he what he had done... it would be asking too much, even from her. Her hate for him had become a scar on her heart, a twin to the one she bore on her body.

Aeris lay on her back, face to the sky in the midst of the Elysian Fields. The day was warm, as it always was; the flowers were bright and blooming all around. Beauty surrounded her but she felt nothing. Her fingers curled around tangled bits of grass as she thought; nails digging deep into the dirt as she closed her eyes and sighed before getting up. Her mother had lectured her about getting on with it. _Move on, Aeris_. How could she move on? Just forget about how much she loved Cloud? Forget her friends and their time together? She wouldn't, she didn't care if she rotted away into nothingness. She wouldn't betray her friends that way. Cloud had remembered her. They had remembered her and she would remember all of them.

If she couldn't have life, then she'd hold onto what she did have: this strange in-between world and her own ghostly body. It was her new home and she had accepted that. Aeris had always made the best of bad situations. With sudden determination, Aeris strode through the field, angry that she'd been over-thinking things again. It happened whenever she was still, which was much of the time. There wasn't really that much to do in heaven, surprisingly. Dwelling on the pain wasn't doing her any good; it made her chest ache and her head hurt, if indeed they even could anymore.

The only thing that would cut through the onslaught of sorrow was mind numbing repetitive activity; walking, skipping stones in the nearby pond, sometimes swimming, running until her body ached, just to forget about the pain.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Aeris moved soundlessly through the long grass. Despite being here for three years, she was still disconcerted about the lack of wild life. The fields seemed so dead without the song of the birds or the chirping of crickets. Perhaps she'd have been less lonely if she had something to keep her company, even if it was only one little bird. Surely paradise held a place for birds or perhaps birds had their own version of heaven.

The thought amused her and she smiled genuinely for the first time in three long years. Yes, she decided there must be a heaven for birds. It would of course be devoid of humans, with plenty of bugs and seed to eat and lots of high trees. Carried forward by this happy thought, she walked a little faster. She remembered back to when she first came here. Her body had been so weak she could barely walk a mile without getting out of breath. The fact that she no longer needed to breathe was not lost on her but her memory of life was strong. Now she had little difficulty walking long distances. She no longer struggled, her body trained by her repetitive walks as she explored the Promised Land. Cloud would be very proud of how far she'd come, as she'd been quite the burden on their journey. She'd been so weak back then.

The day before she'd gone farther than she'd ever gone before, towards a series of rolling hills that piqued her interest. Today she hoped to go beyond those hills. Exploring had been the one thing that had kept her spirits up. She looked forward to finding some new wonder just over the horizon because it helped her forget her sorrow, even if it was only for a moment.

As she walked, her heart lightened, her gait becoming less a determined march and more of a lazy stroll. There was something over those hills and she was eager to find out what it might be; perhaps a lofty mountain ridge or maybe a waterfall? Aeris grinned; she hoped it was a waterfall, one of the really big impressive ones. She'd never had the chance to see one when she was alive, and she'd guessed that even an imaginary one would be better than nothing.

Whistling, Aeris skipped down the well-trodden path, occasionally stopping to look for flat skipping stones. She'd have to find something to do after she found out what was over those hills. With determination, she made her way up the first hill, her legs straining at bit as the incline increased. Aeris didn't mind the mild discomfort; it was worth the effort because she was sure over these hills lay something new, something that would change the dull canvas of the afterlife, turning its muted pastels into sweeping strokes of vibrant color. Her pessimistic side chided her: _Why be so hopeful?_ The Promised Land had been nothing but one big disappointment; there was little point in hoping that it would have anything else to offer. It had been three years after all, if there was something new she would have found it already. Aeris had let that side rule her heart and her mind for too long; with a pout she banished those thoughts. She had no need for negativity, adventure and an end to boredom was at hand and once she'd made up her mind, nothing could stop her.

The trail that led through the hills was endless or at least it seemed that way. Mile after mile of rolling expanse, topped by long green grass that shifted in the wind, leaves whisking together to form a whisper. It urged her on, despite being a bit fatigued at this new exercise. She was used to long walks, but the demanding nature of walking in hilled areas was new to her. From time to time when she was out of breath or felt like she might be over heating, she'd stop and sit. Sometimes she'd go picking through the grass to look for stones. She'd already located quite a few smooth, flat rocks that she looked forward to skipping later on. The others she'd found had just caught her eye. Having a particular color she liked or an unusual pattern that had intrigued her. She'd found so many that she found it hard to carry them in her hands.

In heaven she was given her own heavenly robes, despite the fact that she had expressed interest in keeping her old clothes from her time on earth. But her heavenly watchdogs had insisted that as a denizen of heaven, willing or no, she'd have to don heavenly robes. It was tradition or something. Annoying, but Aeris had relented. Today she'd worn a lavender tunic which was slit on either side near her hips. It had long sleeves, and, when worn properly, they hid her hands from view entirely. Aeris had rolled them up because she was a bit warm and it made picking up rocks much easier. The high mandarin collar was unbuttoned so that it exposed a bit of her chest and much of her neck. Once again she had dared to disobey dress code in favor of comfort. Not like anyone was there to nag her about it anyway. Underneath the long tunic she wore a pair of matching loose fitting pants. So she felt quite safe when gathering the ends of the tunic to use it as a makeshift bag to carry all her rocks. Surely any of paradise's guardians would disapprove of her behavior. She had met only two and they seemed fairly fussy about such things but Aeris hardly cared. Let them come down and lecture her about how she ought to hold herself as a self-respecting member of heaven. She had no compunctions about flinging one of her rocks at them if they did.

Left hand clutched around the end of her dress, she scaled the tallest hill. Walking was now more difficult with a dress-ful of rocks but she wouldn't part with one of the only things that gave her a measure of happiness. The climb up was tough and once on top, she paused for a minute to take in the view. It was in a word: breathtaking. Eyes full of wonder, Aeris turned around to take in the full view. Behind her lay the Elysian Fields, rolling out like an endless green carpet. Before her the same field unfolded, however unlike Elysium this field had a definite end. Not long after these very hills ended, the grass died and in its place was cracked, grayish earth. Growing green withered to dead brown as it was choked off by the barren dust of a great desert and between the end of Elysium and the beginning of the desert lay a wide river, its water so dark it looked almost black.

Aeris stared in open curiosity as she'd never seen anything like this in all her time here. It looked so desolate, very unlike the pleasant comfort of the Promised Land. She found it odd that something like a desert would exist in a land of peace. Who in the world would consider a barren plain heaven? Aeris shrugged, different people like different things. She paused, if there was a desert maybe there was another person like her. After all, she had created this version of heaven -- wouldn't it be possible that perhaps she had run into someone else's?

Scanning the horizon, Aeris searched for anything that might approximate life. A sudden movement caught her attention and her heart leaped. She squinted her eyes, barely making out a flicker of movement in the desert beyond. Straining her eyesight as much as she could, she had to be sure she wasn't just dreaming it. Yes, something... No, someone was moving down there. She could faintly see the form of another person down there; it was too hard to accurately guess gender from this far. Aeris didn't much care if it was a man or a woman, she was just glad to finally see someone else.

Souls came and went so fast in heaven that she hadn't really spent much time with anyone. Only her mother visited, but very rarely. No one had ever stayed with her for any length of time in the three years she'd been here. It was a vain hope to think that there might be another who was just as stubborn as she. It was so lonely. She'd never admit that to her mother or anyone else, but she couldn't help but feel it. Aeris at heart was a people person and she realized that she might have been drowning on sorrow because she was alone.

"_I knew something would change_", she whispered silently to herself.

Clutching her dress so that the rocks inside wouldn't spill out, Aeris made her way down the hill as fast as she could. Her heart pounded with every bobbling step, long ponytail banging against her back as she went. Trotting to a stop as she came to the bottom of the hill, Aeris once again surveyed her surroundings. Her heart that, moments ago, was filled with hope turned to trepidation and fear. With great effort, she willed her feet to move forward, her slippers crunching softly on the ground as they moved from life to death.

The desert beyond seemed more ominous now that she was closer to it. Even the river she'd spotted from above was tainted with menace and ill omen. Her instincts were screaming at her to leave this place. There was something not quite right about it, something fearful that was best left alone. Heaven's creatures did not belong here. Turning back seemed like a good idea, a logical idea. Aeris had never been much for logic, but she'd always trusted her instincts. They had very rarely led her astray. They led her to Cloud and out of Midgar.

_Yes, but they also led you to the Ancient City and your death_, she thought to herself bitterly.

Instincts would get her nowhere and what did she have to fear? She was already dead, not like she could get any deader and coming this far only to turn back was not only cowardly but downright silly. There was nothing for her to be afraid of and if she left she'd never know what was beyond Elysium.

Summoning all her courage, Aeris plodded forward until her feet stopped right at the edge of the river. Her eyes scanned the shore, looking for something that would allow her to cross. She was disappointed when she found nothing. No rock, no tree, nothing. In fact there was a terrible lack of vegetation surrounding the river. The water itself wasn't just dark -- it was black and the surface had an oily sheen to it. Aeris got the disturbing impression that it wasn't normal water at all; that it was something else entirely; something she probably wanted nothing to do with. Swimming was out of the question. With no way to get over, Aeris frowned pacing in frustration while she figured out what to do. Each stride took her farther down the bank.

A short ways away she spotted what looked to be a vase or jar. It was decidedly out of place. Curious, Aeris walked over to it. Squatting down, she examined the jar. It was a medium sized and made of red clay, with a wide neck that tapered and bulged towards the base. The mouth was wide enough for her to clearly see the contents and Aeris couldn't resist the urge to peer inside.

The inside of the jar was full of small golden coins the likes of which Aeris had never seen. She carefully reached a hand in, eager to get a better look at the new mystery in front of her. Her fingers just brushed the coins and she was about to grab one when something like an electric shock made her draw her hand out. Rubbing her fingers, she looked at the vase with apprehension.

"What in the..." she whispered quietly, her eyes widening as letters wrote themselves across the surface of the pot, effectively answering her question. Cocking her head, she read them out loud. "Do not take what is not yours. If you wish to cross, drop in a coin for the ferryman."

Aeris looked around for a source -- the power behind those words -- but found none. The Promised Land was a strange place and she'd gotten used to some of the things that would happen here. Entire views transforming at will, the disappearing souls, but nothing like this had ever happened. She wondered briefly if she'd gone mad. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to go for it.

"I don't have a coin! And where's the ferryman?" She queried loudly, her voice sounding thin and raspy from lack of use.

But the words on the pot had disappeared and no new ones had taken their place. Aeris was about to lose her temper when she felt a mist wrap around her hand, and when it disappeared she felt an extra weight in her palm. Uncurling her fingers, she held up her hand to examine the gold coin that shone in the very center of her palm. Rolling it forward, she held it up for further scrutiny.

There was very little in the way of decoration on the coin, so unlike the gil she'd used in her own world for money. One side of the coin depicted a pomegranate that had been opened as if someone had prepared to eat it. Next to the open fruit were three of its seeds. Above the image was there was inscribed text that Aeris could not understand. Nevertheless she mouthed the words silently. _Sic transit gloria mundi_. Tilting her head and wrinkling her nose, Aeris wondered what it meant. Perhaps she'd ask her mother the next time she saw her. Turning the coin over, she examined the other side, on it was a death's head and Aeris shivered.

Licking her lips, she pondered what she ought to do. Obviously she now had a coin and the pot had said to drop it in to pay the ferryman. But she saw no ferry and for that matter, she saw no man.

"Hell, what could it hurt?!" she said to herself, a little surprised that she said it out loud.

With a shrug, Aeris tossed the coin inside the jar and waited. Before her a translucent platform appeared, hovering just above the river. Aeris wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. The pot had said to pay the ferryman, and truthfully she had thought that perhaps a boat would appear. At least, that's what she had expected.

"Get on."

She jumped at the sound like a frightened chocobo. Her eyes were wide and once again, she looked around for the source. Should she trust it? What if she got on that platform and it dumped her into that awful river? The thought of having that oily water touch her skin sent waves of revulsion through her. For a moment she argued with herself, finally deciding that she just being childish, reminding herself that she had nothing to fear. Trusting a voice and the strange words written on a pot was a dangerous proposition, but at the same time, she had no reason to think it was lying to her. Nothing in the Promised Land had hurt her thus far; therefore what harm could come of a little faith?

She heaved a great sigh, tentatively placing a foot on the platform. It sunk with her weight a little, but after that it held firm. Satisfied that there was no trick to it, she stepped onto the platform without a trace of fear. From beneath her, the platform gave off a sudden burst of purple light, causing Aeris to gasp in alarm. As the glow subsided, she noted a strange symbol that wasn't there before she'd stepped on the platform. It looked like one of the mandalas she'd seen while she was in Cosmo Canyon -- a circle made of ancient writing with a cross inside of it. At each point of the cross was a heart shaped point, and when she squinted, the hearts almost looked like hands.

"Follow your heart, daughter of life," said the voice, as if expecting her to be confused about what to do.

Aeris bit back a sarcastic response and looked back down at the platform. It was obvious the voice was referring to the hearts on the mandala. It wouldn't move until she'd select which way she wanted to go, the hearts weren't just decoration. They were arrows. Now the real question was, how in the world did she select a direction? The platform had been activated when she'd put both feet on it, perhaps she steered the thing in the same way. Cautiously, she placed both feet on the heart that pointed directly across to the other side of the river. The heart glowed brilliant green and suddenly the platform moved across the river with soundless ease.

Aeris found it disturbing to look down and see the surface of that river so closely. The black water rippled slightly as the platform made its way across. The smell that came off it was like death itself and reminded Aeris of the carrion she'd seen in the desert surrounding Gold Saucer. Her stomach roiled and just when she thought she might lose it, the trip ended and she gratefully retreated to solid ground. She was not looking forward to the ride back. Shaking out the nervous tension, she put as much room between herself and the river as she could.

The desert wasn't nearly as ominous as the river had been. It was certainly desolate; without flower or tree, bush or grass. All around her was an endless plain of cracked earth. Aeris plodded forward, determined to find the figure she'd seen on the hill despite her mounting fear. Mile after mile she walked and still she found nothing but earth. Occasionally she would see a glint of light in her peripheral vision but when she turned around, there was nothing. It alarmed her, angered her and scared her all at the same time. Her imagination was getting the best of her and she knew it, but it was hard to stop herself from jumping at shadows. This place was unlike her heaven.

Her hair and clothes were caught by a sudden gust of wind. It buffeted her with sand lifted from the ground. Aeris stopped to turn her head away, protecting her eyes and exposed skin from the rasping wind. It passed and Aeris opened her eyes, brushing the stray strands of hair from her face. It struck her once again how terribly barren the place was and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of person would have such a bleak version of heaven as this. She began to think that this might not be a part of the Promised Land at all.

Heaven had been a place of limitless views. Anything you desired to see that was within its grasp to give you, it gave without fault and without flaw. If Aeris had wanted to see a desert, the Promised Land would gratefully oblige. It would produce a perfect copy of any desert she pleased, real or imaged. It could be as alive as Cosmo Canyon or as dead as the Corel Valley. But always there was a sense of peace pervading it. True, she didn't always want to feel the comfort that Elysium offered but it was always there. Though she'd never admit it, that sense of peace and tranquility was all that kept her from going crazy.

This place held no serenity. There was only emptiness; _true_ emptiness. No matter how unhappy her afterlife had been, what she felt in her heart could not compare to the isolation she felt while in this desert. It was full of fear and pain, none of it from her -- it surrounded her like a cold, wet blanket. With each step, it became increasingly obvious that this was not a part of the Promised Land; this was no one's heaven.

She felt that urge to shrink away and her inner voice told her once again that she did not belong. This was no place for her, no place at all. She had been walking already for forty-five minutes and had found no sign of the figure she'd spotted on the hill. Something was wrong; terribly, terribly wrong. Common sense finally kicked in and she resolved to leave. There was nothing for her here. Despite the loss she felt over her former life, the warm fields of Elysium suited her better than this wasteland.

As she was about to turn around a ripple of multicolored light danced just in front of her, not three feet away from where she was standing. Aeris rubbed her eyes and blinked, hoping that she was just seeing things. Then it happened again. The light was entrancing, one color and many all at once; a vibrating rainbow that seemed beautiful and deadly all at once.

Her heart beat faster as she realized that something was trying to lure her farther into the desert. She tried in vain to back away, the rational side of her mind urging her to run but she could not tear her eyes away from the vision. She was transfixed and her feet moved without her order. Devoid of her own will, Aeris walked towards the light in a trance. She didn't gain control of her body until she stood right in front of it, eyes blinking slowly as she continued to take in its radiance.

Curiously, she found that it wasn't a light at all but the midday sun, glinting off the slick surface of a wall which had remained invisible to her until she was close enough to it to discern the illusion. It seemed it had been camouflaged to mimic its surroundings so well that she could barely tell the difference between it and the landscape even now.

Lifting a trembling hand, Aeris touched the wall uncertainly. The surface was cold and smooth as she ran her hand across it. She stared at it wonderingly, a million questions bombarding her open mind. Who would make such a wall and why? Eyes narrowed in thought, she traced the surface with her finger. Walls were meant to keep things out... or to keep things in. So it was a question of what they wanted to hide from her. Was the wall meant to keep her out or was it meant to protect her from something?

Either way it angered her.

She was no child, no china doll.

Her appearance had always worked against her. Tifa had called her a girly-girl. It was a compliment and an insult at the same time. She knew her friend meant no harm but it silently irritated her. Sure, she liked to wear dresses and preferred not to get dirty. She did her hair and always tried to look her best, but that didn't mean she wasn't tough. Sometimes, she had envied Tifa and Yuffie for being able to fit in with the guys better. No one worried about them because everyone knew they could take care of themselves. _They_ had the fighting skills, _they_ had the stamina to keep up with everyone, _they_ wore practical clothes. The mental list was endless.

Aeris had tried hard to pull her own weight but found it difficult. And every time someone had to help her out of a scrape, she cursed herself. The only possible advantage she'd had over anyone was her own stubborn will and her talent with materia. She was better at casting magic than the lot of them. That, at least, was something to be proud of.

Even so, she resented the special treatment she received on earth, and she resented it even more in heaven. It was as if she couldn't escape the aura of girlish innocence, even in death. True, she was not physically strong but it was not always bodily strength that mattered. Sephiroth had been strong -- stronger than all of them. But without her help, he wouldn't have been defeated. She intervened and made it possible for Cloud and the rest to seal his fate. _She_ had called holy and it had destroyed Sephiroth. Her mind got sidetracked, thinking on the last moments of that monster's life. She hoped it hurt. She hoped he was burning in hell right now. Better yet, she hoped holy had destroyed him altogether.

This grim thought settled in her soul and she let the anger overwhelm her heart for a brief moment. Aeris felt a wash of guilt at thoughts that were once so foreign to her. She was sure she'd never have the strength of character to completely forgive the man who killed her but that didn't mean she should abandon all she held dear. He was the pitiless killer, not she.

Laying aside her hatred, Aeris hoped that wherever her killer was that he had found the peace so obviously denied him in life. It was the right thing to do, she thought as she closed her eyes in a small, silent prayer. Sudden warmth blossomed beneath her fingers and the smooth surface of the wall rippled. First the waves were small but soon they gathered strength. The barrier was now alive as the surface undulated mercurially. As the waves broke and fell, the area of wall under her hand began to become clear. The camouflage disappearing where her flesh touched, so that what lay behind was slowly revealed. In circular waves, the barrier was lifted though the surface of the wall remained, though now it was more like glass than stone.

Aeris was too busy being amazed at what she'd done to bother with what lay behind the wall. She was able to affect something, finally. Magic was another thing of the past, one more pleasure she had to give up. She had always enjoyed practicing spells and learning new ones. It was something she was good at and it had made her feel useful. So she was elated to learn that perhaps it wasn't something relegated to her former life. It was something that was still useful here in heaven. She wouldn't be coddled anymore, that was for sure. Whatever lay beyond this wall was of no concern to her. As the planet's savior she had nothing to fear; she had not lost her edge as she thought she had.

Her eyes were fixed on her hand and the illusion that hid the wall disappeared by her will with lightening speed. The barrier was down and Aeris paused to breathe. She'd expended quite a bit of energy on that little trick and it had exhausted her. It had been too long since the last time she'd used magic and she was woefully out of practice. Her concentration was still divided and it wasn't until she noticed a flicker of movement that she remembered why she'd cast the spell in the first place. To find out who or what they were hiding from her.

Still struggling for breath, she lifted her gaze from her hand to look beyond the barrier she'd just opened. Aeris let out a small gasp of surprise and quickly withdrew her hand. Inside the wall, behind a thin barrier of glass lay the vision of her nightmares.

The imposing figure had not noticed her. His eyes were closed and his concentration was focused on the slow and practiced movements of a kata. She could not help but stare as his hands swept the air with long graceful strokes. His feet followed the movement, looking to her eyes like a slow dance of death. Aeris could visualize those same elegant moves, only faster and with deadly intent. It wasn't hard to guess their use and the damage they could cause when used properly.

Her knuckles went white as she stared blankly at the monster beyond the barrier. She choked off the scream that was in her throat, covering it with one trembling hand. Somehow, Aeris managed to hold herself together, just enough to gather her wits and to think of how she was to escape. If she left quietly now, he probably wouldn't even notice that she'd been here. It didn't matter that he couldn't reach her and logically, she knew he couldn't hurt her anymore. Yet the barrier that separated them gave her no comfort, and he would find ways to hurt her. Aeris had clear recollection of his power, and was quite sure, despite lingering doubts, that if he wished to escape he could. His proximity to Elysium was discomforting. If he knew she was here, it'd be no trouble for him to follow her home. He'd find her heaven and he'd wreak his revenge on her.

Aeris tried to keep her mind clear, but thoughts like those kept assaulting her mind: visions of his bloody revenge and that awful smile of his. Her eyes stung and Aeris found it hard to keep herself from letting out a sob. She bit her lip, her hand slipping back down at her side as tears formed in her eyes. She clenched her free hand into a fist, her nails digging into the sensitive flesh of her palm. It left little half moon marks behind but she was beyond caring now. Her whole body shook as she backed away slowly, too afraid to turn her back on her enemy. She wanted to be able to see him at all times. Better to know when he was coming after her than to be attacked unawares.

Her heart beat so fast that she felt like it might just burst and though she tried to keep her breathing regular and even, it came out in quick desperate rasps. Setting one foot carefully behind her, Aeris tried to keep her composure though she realized it was a losing battle.

Without warning, her foot caught on a piece of upturned earth. Her ankle twisted badly as she tried to keep balance, her arms pin-wheeling helplessly in the air before she fell to the ground. The breath was knocked out of her and she landed with a grunt. The rocks she'd been carrying fell around her, some of them landing on her legs and stomach, the rest clattered to the ground, loudly. Aeris lay there for a moment, sprawled on the earth in utter shock. She quickly elbowed herself up, her face struck in horror as those jade eyes opened and pierced into hers.

Aeris was paralyzed as their eyes locked. Her mouth opened and closed in mute terror and she tried desperately to find her voice. _Who would hear you scream_? Her breathing was ragged and she tried to suck in air with frantic, pain filled gasps but all she could do was stare. He returned her gaze, seemingly as surprised to see her as she had been to see him, though _his_ face wasn't set with fear, but wonder.

Sephiroth moved forward, platinum hair fanning out behind him with the movement. He tilted his head as he placed a hand on the barrier and the surface rippled. Gazing at the terrified girl, waves of emotion flickered through his eyes and Aeris was struck by the change she perceived in them. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something _different_ about the man that stood in front of her. Her curiosity over this change would not stifle the ingrained fear that held her in suspension. All she could see was his hand, the recognition in his eyes, and the ripple he'd caused across the surface of the barrier. He was going to break out. The thought jump started her terror and produced instant panic. Her eyes widened and in desperation, she tried to scramble away from him. Rational thought had been obliterated until there was nothing left but animal fear.

Her attempt to escape was hampered by her own quick, rapid breathing. A voice in the back of her head warned her to slow down or she'd hyperventilate, but by the time she got the message it was too late. Spots danced in her vision and she felt light headed. Aeris fought the gray fog and the darkness it ushered behind it. She wouldn't faint. Not here, not now. Not while that man was so close. There was little she could do. The darkness took her. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and her body went limp as she passed out cold.


	2. Across the Universe

_We know what we are, but know not what we may be._

_--William Shakespeare_

The strains of a soft lullaby wound its way through the darkness. A bright and happy tune that she remembered from her childhood which was nearly lost in the fog of time -- forgotten as thoroughly as the terrifying encounter in the plains of purgatory was, all she felt was the warmth of the maternal lullaby sung so sweetly. Scattered remembrances of her real mother were lifted before her like giant puzzle pieces. Laid together, these memories made a broken picture of stained glass, still beautiful but forever distorted. Eyes as bright and green as her own, loose flowing chestnut hair that draped over her shoulders in looping waves, the warmth of her arms, the scent of rose hips and lavender, the sweet timbre of her gentle voice and the tinkling bell-like sound of her laughter, these images fragmented and reformed over time. Certain things she'd never forget, others faded into the deepest recesses of her subconscious.

There were times in her youth when she was terrified of forgetting even the smallest thing about her real mother. Usually it affected her the most after the planet sent her one of its unpleasant visions (which it rarely sent anything but), whether it was its own lonely screams or the graphic depiction of her death in the great city -- it was always pain and horror. It was then that she reached for the memory of her birth mother and would wake sobbing when she couldn't remember the woman's face. It wasn't that she didn't love her adoptive mother, but her real mother would understand about the planet, its voice, and the terrible premonitions it sent its only confidant.

She would call desperately to the planet, with soft cries begging it to help her. If she was to give her life, did she not deserve some small comfort? The planet was at first reluctant, but it soon realized the burden it had placed on one so young. It relented, letting Ifalna cross over from time to time to speak with her daughter. The planet would do what it had to do to make its last shepherd stronger; to prepare the girl for what was to come.

It was not supposed to have been this way. Aeris was not the one who should have knelt at that altar. The powers that be, the collective consciousness of the cetra, had little faith in the flower girl. She was a half-breed and in the eyes of some of her ancestors, not fit to summon the last hope -- impure and without true power. It was an ugly way to look at it, but it was the way many cetra felt.

Fate had decreed that Ifalna was to give her life. She was of pure blood and with all the power befitting one of her kind. She was to summon holy and in summoning, sacrifice herself. Aeris was to stay behind, carry on the cetra's legacy and oversee the planet's healing. Fate had dictated that Aeris should live; however, plans, no matter how well laid, often go awry. The future is not static and as a force it is as uncontrollable as the wind. Fate can dictate all it wants but the strings of the future are limitless, fracturing off by the random chance and whims of human free will. Even the powers that be are helpless to foresee exactly what the future holds. All that can be seen is possibility. Life is and always will be unpredictable. That is the price of mortality.

Ifalna died on the steps in front of a train station in the Midgar slums, her body riddled with bullets, rather than at the hands of a mad man. With her dying breath she entrusted the care of her five-year-old daughter to a stranger. A woman she barely knew but Ifalna trusted her implicitly for reasons only she knew. Aeris had guessed it was Elmyra's warm and generous nature, that somehow her mother could sense it.

In dying, Ifalna's burden had been passed on to her daughter. There was no one else to take her place. All the other cetra were gone. Aeris knew she wasn't as skilled at magic as she should have been. Even if she managed to summon holy, it would not be enough to stop meteor. She hadn't the power to put behind the spell, like her mother would have.

Of course, Aeris didn't realize it wasn't supposed to be her. The planet had sent her the visions her mother was supposed to have received. It tried its best to prepare one who was woefully inadequate for such a job. Even so, Aeris had made the planet proud, there was joy mixed with sadness in its song on the day meteor was repelled. It rejoiced that Aeris had completed her duty and in death became more powerful than she'd ever been. It was unexpected and it silenced all those who had doubted the girl for being only half cetra. Though it was proud of her and wished her well, the planet regretted that its friend would never speak with it again, and it was left alone to heal in silent sorrow.

Ifalna hadn't been surprised by her daughter's strength. She had never given much credence to the stereotypes about humans. They seemed weak but in their weakness, they found strength. There was a fire in the human soul, a desire to carry on despite overwhelming odds of failure and that genius spark of ingenuity that had helped them survive thus far. Sure, Aeris didn't have the raw power to summon the spell at full strength, so she improvised. Using the lifestream to bolster holy, Aeris had accomplished the impossible. No cetra would have thought to do that. They would have counted on the spell to do all the work. And maybe it would have, but then again, maybe not. Ifalna had learned that fate could not be trusted. She had also learned that fate could also be cruel.

Looking down at her sleeping daughter, Ifalna felt bitterness and regret but most of all guilt. She had been the one to fail in her duty and Aeris had paid the price. Worse, it seemed that fate had more in store for the young cetra and it chose Ifalna as the bearer of bad news. Aeris stirred in her sleep and her eyes fluttered as she awoke. The older cetra did her best to mask the sorrowful expression she'd worn before. It was important to keep things positive. The powers that be didn't want Aeris knowing too much. For if she did, Ifalna knew her daughter would refuse outright. Who could blame her? If Ifalna herself held any power whatsoever, she'd have found a way to stop this... madness. But she didn't. The proud mother of the last shepherd and savior of the planet was a low level cherubim and as much a pawn of a fate as her daughter was.

Sighing deeply, she placed her hand on the young girl's shoulder, shaking it gently until her eyes opened. "Good Morning, munkin. How are you feeling?"

Aeris smiled warmly at the use of her mother's nickname for her. It'd been too long since she last heard it. "I'm okay. Were you singing?"

Ifalna nodded slowly, trying her best to let the moment play out. She wanted so much to just stay here with her daughter. What a lady she'd grown into! How she'd wished she were the one who was responsible for this. Elmyra had done a marvelous job. There was a special seat in heaven for her and Ifalna looked forward to thanking the woman personally one day.

"Yes. I was."

"Don't stop."

Ifalna shook her head and swallowed hard. "I wish I could, but there isn't time. I'm sorry." She'd been sent here with a mission. They had sent her to prepare the former flower girl as soon as possible. There was no time for her to explain all she needed to and she could only hope what she could impart was enough to prepare her daughter for what was to come. The powers that be had denied her so much of her heritage that the girl knew little of her place in the world, as if they wanted her to remain ignorant. "_Damn them_," Ifalna cursed to herself.

Aeris didn't understand; it was obvious by the confused frown she wore. "But why? I've ascended finally!" The flower girl waited, looking at her mother's face and trying to read the expressions that flickered across it. "Haven't I?"

"No. You haven't. This is an illusion." Ifalna winced at her daughter's crestfallen expression, carrying on despite the lump in her throat. "You are in the highest plain of heaven; the seventh layer. As a wandering soul your consciousness is ill equipped to grasp this reality, so this place was created for you -- so we'd be allowed to speak."

Aeris sat up and looked around, her mind was a muddle of confusion. The powers that be had rather simple tastes and picked from her memory the least elaborate piece of scenery they could find. They had little time or use for more complex illusions because they had better things to do with their power. Still, Aeris was still suitably impressed. It was an almost exact replica of a room she'd stayed in while in Wutai. Right down to the rice paper walls and tatami mats. Looking to her right, she was delighted to note that the porch doors were open and she was able to gaze at the garden beyond. It was slightly disappointing to think none of this was real but then again, nothing had been real for her for years.

Aeris chided herself for being so jaded and mirthless. Illusion or no, it was nice to see something that mirrored her former life so exactly. Elysium had no trouble creating natural wonders for her to explore but it'd been unable to recreate anything approaching human settlements. She'd learned that quickly when she'd first arrived in heaven. It had tried its hardest to replicate her church for her but in the end it failed miserably.

Gazing out into the garden, Aeris wondered if she'd be able to walk in it, even if it were only for a moment. It looked so inviting. She could see little trails winding through meticulously maintained trees and shrubs. A man-made pond could be seen in the distance and if Aeris strained her hearing, she could almost hear the pleasant thunk of a deer scare that was no doubt placed by the river that fed the pond; a tiny bell that hung from the rafters of the porch rung in the breeze.

How she'd longed for familiarity like this. Something that was closer to what she remembered of life. Aeris had tried very hard to hold onto everything she recollected from her time as a mortal. It hit her then that there was quite a bit she'd forgotten and memories flooded her as she continued to gaze longingly into the garden. What would it be like to spend a night in this room? Would the futon be as soft and yielding as she remembered? What would it be like to snuggle deep into the down coverlet on a cold winter's night? Even better, she longed for the feeling of kicking off that coverlet during the summer time. Strangely, the thought of being sweaty and uncomfortable seemed appealing. How long had it been since she'd thought about showering? Even the simple act of eating had been forgotten. Things so basic in life that she'd taken for granted and now that she was dead, how she longed for them. The very thought of running a brush through newly wetted hair was thrilling to her, instead of the annoyance it had been when she still breathed. Unconsciously, she grasped a wisp of hair with her fingers and twirled it.

If she'd been paying any attention, she'd have noticed Ifalna's smile at the reflex action. It had been a habit that Aeris had indulged in from the day she was born, when her tiny hands reached up into her mother's unbound curls for comfort.

Her hand slipped back into her lap and Aeris looked at it for a moment. What did they want from her now? There was nothing more they could take from her. Staring into the hand she'd injured in Elysium, Aeris wished with all her heart she were still alive. The skin of her palm was unmarred and featureless. Without a body to wound, any injury was hardly permanent. It took everything in her not to press her fingers into her flesh until it bled.

"Do you miss your mortal life that much?"

Aeris blushed but she could not lie to her mother. "Yes."

Ifalna nodded sadly. "I thought as much. The planet is calling you home. You don't belong here, Aeris..."

Aeris had no reply for what her mother told her. She felt as if she'd been punched square in the chest. Hesitating, Aeris asked: "You mean, I'll be resurrected?"

Ifalna nodded and tried her best to look happy for the girl, knowing that what she was throwing her into was only more pain. Before Aeris could ask another question, the older woman gently placed two fingers directly in the center of her forehead. The girl's vision was filled with bright green as she was dragged from heaven into the ether. From faraway she could hear her mother's voice intermingled with the myriad voices of the planet.

_Be in me_...

Aeris sank into herself, spiraling into the twining colors of the lifestream. The misty tendrils knotted together as a new illusion was created. She found herself in an orchard, surrounded on all sides by cherry trees in bloom. The wind stirred, rocking the trees branches and causing a snowfall of petals to drift to earth. She stared blankly at the ethereal scene; awash in a flurry of blossoms.

"Where am I? What's going on?" Aeris asked, aware that she hadn't moved her mouth to speak. Rather, she raised the question from within.

"This is the twilight of the dreamtime -- and we are walking the path of the lifestream."

"Why?"

"To prepare you."

Aeris's hands flew up as a whirlwind of petals surrounded her and everything became a swirling blur of pink. Images appeared in the blur of blossoms, they spoke of her destiny and why she was chosen from all the souls in heaven to be resurrected. The imparted her purpose. The petals parted and she saw a mirror image of herself. From this backward vision, a pair of wings erupted from her twin's back. The doppelganger turned and smiled sweetly at Aeris before she was gone in an explosion of light. She was in a wash of confusion as she unconsciously moved her right hand to massage her back, half expecting to find wings there. As her arm traversed past her eyes, she noticed a flicker of light on her exposed skin. A series of symbols faintly glowed from within her flesh as she pulled the arm down to examine it. Holding her arm out, she ran her hand over the lettering. There was a calm acceptance in the gesture. Though this was strange it oddly felt right. Like something that begged to be known, yet Aeris was frustrated. The words were there, but she couldn't understand the meaning.

Her mother's voice overlapped and fused with the deeper tones of the planet, her mouth unmoving. "Those symbols are a holy word -- Hesed, the embodiment of heavenly mercy and compassion. It is the mark of the last High Summoner, the one who lights the watchtowers."

Light exploded once more and she was rocketed back into the orchard. Her mother was nowhere to be found, hidden by a torrent of pink and white. Aeris noted how the trees fairly wept with fallen blossoms.

"What are the watchtowers?"

She saw a brief flash of saffron and crimson, disappearing behind the curtain of petals. Aeris turned to see her mother peering at her from behind the tangled branches of the trees. Ifalna stood out against the barrage of blossoms. A gossamer figure draped in a brilliant gold kimono, embellished with deep red. Her dark green eyes were like a distant ocean, endless and deep. The emotion within was all too readable, yet at the same time Aeris was unable to reach it -- to touch upon the mystery that was her mother.

Without a voice, Ifalna spoke again: "They are sacred places; the pillars of the planet's power."

"I thought mako was the planet's power; it and the lifestream."

Ifalna laughed lightly as she moved between the trees, circling her daughter as she disappeared and reappeared. It was disconcerting to the young woman and she wondered why it seemed her mother hid from her. It was like a game she didn't realize she'd been playing and she didn't know the rules. Frustration built and Aeris felt in her heart that her mother was afraid to face her but she could not understand why. _Why won't you come closer? Why are we always at arms length?_

"I cannot come closer because I am unworthy of your light. There is guilt and shame in this request..."

"No, mama, don't say that. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

Ifalna shook her head sadly. "What you are asked to do now, should have been your only duty."

"I don't understand."

"How could you? The powers that be kept it from you."

With a wave of her hand, she showed Aeris her secret shame that she had vaulted in her heart in preparation of this day. The hidden remembrances buffeted her daughter and the disconsolate look on her young face was heartbreaking. Finally the last steward knew that things should have been different. The lies she'd been told since the day she took on her duty were exposed. She had been made to go to the ancient city for a promise that wasn't her own. Her destiny had been skewered, replaced by her mother's, which at the time was more important. Aeris couldn't blame her mother or the planet, yet there was a sense of betrayal that her most trusted confidants had lied to her.

Worse than that was it showed what her destiny should have been -- she was supposed to live. Her fate had been bound to Cloud by the stars themselves. They had been pinpointed as a bridge between the celestial and the earthly; between human and cetra. It would allow future generations to hear the planet's cries, so that it would never be alone. This melding of blood would allow the planet to finally heal and would give humanity a purpose beyond taking and never giving back. With heartbreaking detail she was shown her former destiny: The images of home and family spinning past her empty eyes and visions of blond haired, green-eyed children. The gentle smile of her former bodyguard turned husband. The large wandering garden surrounding a home she'd always dreamt of having and the planet humming contentedly underneath. The images disappeared abruptly, shifting away like so much dust in the wind. Ifalna could sense the girl's hope, that whatever had caused fate to go awry could be fixed. That by some miracle, the visions of love and happiness could be claimed as hers. _That road is closed to you now_...

"Then why did you show it to me?"

Her mother flitted between the trees. "You deserved to know the truth. I will not lie for the powers that be any longer." Her mother went quiet and when she spoke again, she could plainly hear the tears in her voice. "He would have been good for you. I'm sorry, munkin. I'm sorry that I failed and now you suffer."

She could hear the muffled sounds of her mother's sobs and the flower girl felt the sorrow as if it were her own. In a way, it was. Bitterness at what she lost was faded into the back of her mind. What could she do but pine in useless rage? Pointless, stupid and selfish, that is what she was. Waiting here, doing nothing, when she had a destiny to fulfill. A proverb Elmyra had often recited came to her: _You can't always get what you want but if you try sometimes you get what you need_. She could continue to rail and rant, howling at the wind the unfairness of it all. There was a part of her that wanted to do just that. To scream at her mother, at the planet and deny them both the peace they sought through her, but she'd also be denying herself and the need she felt deep inside to live again. This simulacrum of existence would never be enough. A chance to start over and though Cloud was beyond her reach, the idea that at least she'd be on the same plane of existence as him was comforting. Perhaps she'd bump into him, accidentally or otherwise.

As if reading her mind, her mother replied: "This task has been appointed to you and you alone must complete it. Your friends cannot help you."

"WHY NOT?! They were good enough to defeat both Jenova AND Sephiroth. Without them, holy wouldn't even have worked!"

Ifalna cut the girl off. "Humans have already meddled too much in celestial affairs. _They_ built mako reactors. _They_ released Jenova... as much as I love mortals, they must be allowed to move on; it is their way."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this! It's not fair and you know it."

"Is what you were planning any more fair? You're dead to him, Aeris; have been for three years. What would coming back now accomplish?"

"Everything you showed me in those visions!"

"Is that what you really believe? That you could show up after death and everything would be as it was before? He has moved on -- he's happy now and ever so slowly he's building a new life for himself, after years of tormenting himself. He has finally healed. And you would take all that away for a lost dream. It's cruel and selfish." Her daughter gave her a pained glare, as if hating her for telling the truth. Ifalna approached her daughter now, walking out from behind the trees. "I understand how you feel, more than you'll ever know. Your father is lost to me; reincarnated to pay for the sins of his past. I miss him... I miss him so much, Aeris. But I know he's happy. I can feel it and it's enough for me. It's all I have, but it's enough."

Her mother's heartfelt words were enough to make her regret. "So, I can't even see him..."

"No, contact with those you knew in life is strictly forbidden."

"What if I do _accidentally _bump into him? What then?"

Ifalna extended her hand as a ball of light gathered in her palm, smaller motes of light twisting in and out of the effulgent orb. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the light forward. The ball separated into individual trails of incandescent light that twisted around Aeris's left wrist and with a brilliant burst they dimmed to form a sparkling beaded bracelet of ruby red jade.

"That charm is enchanted with a glamour that will disguise your appearance. The magic used is rather delicate as we're only used to using it on inanimate things. It's the first time such a charm has been used on a living being."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, you must take special care. The glamour is only effective on humans. You will appear to them as a stranger as long as you do not speak; to do so will break the illusion."

"Why?"

"The glamour does not extend to disguising your voice. That kind of magic takes more power than I have."

"Why are _you_ doing this? Isn't this some kind of heavenly mission? Shouldn't the powers that be help?"

"They aren't that fond of illusory magic. They consider such things unworthy; beneath them. So they leave such things to the lower orders, like myself."

Aeris nodded, staring down at the tiny beaded bracelet, noting that it wasn't really a bracelet at all but a long strand of beads that looped around her wrist. Upon closer examination, she noticed that each bead was intricately carved into the shape of a rose. She fingered a single bead, regarding it with wonder that something so beautiful was created just for her. Holding the entire strand together was a much larger bead and from it hung a small icon made of alabaster in the shape of an ascending angel. Her tiny wings were outstretched, making Aeris wonder what it was like to feel so free. Smiling faintly, she thought that maybe this angel _was _her, flapping her wings trying desperately to reach her heaven. "Can't always get what you want," she whispered to the angel, though she wondered what it was she really needed. If it wasn't Cloud, then what was it? When had her happiness hinged on one person? Life had been offered to her -- with Cloud or without, didn't that mean anything? Her mother said he was happy and Aeris howled inwardly that it wasn't enough but the more practical side realized, in a way, it was.

Life was better than wandering a field of perfection aimlessly.

The only thing holding her back was fear. As touchy as she was about her own physical weakness, she had to admit that she was no fighter and the idea of traveling the world all by her lonesome was daunting. No, it was terrifying. When she had traveled the world with Avalanche chasing Sephiroth from continent to continent it had been frightening. Every battle was a war within herself; a struggle to keep mind numbing fear at bay. If it hadn't been for her friend's support she didn't think that she'd have even made it half as far as she had. In the final analysis, Aeris was an untrained flower girl who was a pacifist at heart and the powers that be were going to send her back to the planet with all its troubles and dangers -- alone. Her magic was strong but it would only get her so far. She'd leaned on her friends, depended on them to protect her. Yes, she was being selfish in thinking she could go back to them but she was afraid not to. Terrified that she'd fail outright. There were enemies she'd have to face who would stand in the face of her magic and laugh. She'd have to fight and she'd have to be strong and if that was the case, the most honest part of Aeris knew there was little chance for her. Gods, she hated being so weak while having to try so hard to convince herself that she was otherwise.

Her stubborn will awoke and it was not prepared to slink away in defeat. If she didn't wish to be coddled then it was time for her to actually stand on her own. Her friends had found the courage and strength to move on and if they could, she could too. If she was called to fight and if it killed her -- so be it. She'd been dead before and knew there was nothing to fear. Lighting the watchtowers couldn't be more difficult that summoning holy and she'd done that all on her own. Her face set with grim determination as she lifted her face to regard her mother.

"What do I have to do?"

"So brave," her mother replied, the look on her face almost mournful, "You will answer the call then?"

Aeris nodded firmly; eager to get on with her mission. "You said I had to light the watchtowers. So, how do I do it?"

"You will know when the time comes."

_The heck?_ she thought, her nose wrinkling in irritation. "Okay, way to be vague, Mom. If I'm going to risk my life, I'd like to know what I'm being asked to do, seriously."

Her mother laughed lightly. "Truth be told, I don't even know myself. The last time the towers were lit was over ten thousand years ago. I'm afraid you'll have to trust the planet and your instincts to guide you."

Petals drifted softly between the two women. For the first time since the dreamtime began, Aeris could see her mother clearly as she approached her. She seemed unafraid, all traces of that mysterious aura that pervaded her was gone, she stood before as her mother and nothing more than that, slipping the role of the planet's avatar. One graceful hand planted itself on her cheek and Aeris looked deeply into her mother's eyes. Pride showed clearly in their vivid green depths, as did an echo of sadness. In death she'd be denied both the pleasure of her husband's company and her daughter's. It was strange; she should feel embittered and angry. Yet all she could feel was limitless, undying love for her only child.

"I love you, Aeris," Ifalna said, her voice softly choked with emotion.

"I love you too, Mama."

For the first time since she was five years old, her mother held her in her arms. It was the most wonderful feeling in the entire world. The trees shifted, spilling forth a gentle rain of blossoms that tenderly fell on mother and daughter. They stood there holding each other for longer than human time was able to measure and even then it seemed too short a moment when they finally pulled apart. Aeris wept then, for a destiny denied and for the time she'd never have with those she loved, whether it was her mother or Cloud it only added to the aching loneliness in her heart.

Her mother wiped a tear away with her thumb, her smile was still brilliant as the stars, shining through her tears. She tilted her head as she looked at her daughter, her eyes slowly fixating on something that seemed to be just behind her shoulder. Ifalna caught her gaze and wordlessly nodded in the direction she'd been looking. Aeris frowned and furrowed her eyebrows as she turned to see what was of such great interest behind her. She jumped, her hand going to her heart as she saw a shrouded figure standing not five feet away. The figure was tall and covered head to toe in a light gray cloak. She guessed from the height and the way the figure held itself that it was a man, though she couldn't be sure.

"Who is that?"

"Your guardian."

She looked back at her mother quizzically. "But I thought..."

"Silly girl! Did you actually think we'd send you back into the world with no protection? It's true you haven't ascended but your power is beyond that of mortal man, even so, a summoner was never meant to fight. A guardian of equal strength has been chosen from among the dead to accompany you."

Aeris glanced over at the cloaked figure and whispered as if afraid he'd hear. "Why doesn't he take his hood off?" It disturbed her that she couldn't see his face and the lingering sense of familiarity nettled her. Something about the way he stood, the way he held himself was so familiar and Aeris wanted nothing more than to pinpoint the feeling and hold it down for examination. _Who is he?_

"It is tradition that you are unaware of the identity of your guardian."

"Stupid traditions," Aeris grumbled, _mostly_ to herself.

"Are they now? You didn't know what Cloud looked like before you met him, so how did you know he was meant for you?"

How _had_ she known that Cloud was meant for her? Aeris wracked her brain, and the only answer she could come up with was -- it had just felt right. There were no dreams, no premonitions she could remember that gave her a clear picture of why she knew. She admitted that she'd often dreamed of Cloud but in those dreams she'd never seen his face. There was nothing but vague impressions and fragments of thought that tied her to his essence -- like a stamp that was out of ink, there was no concrete image, only the hazy remnants of emotions. Not a clue to who he was or what he looked like, yet she still recognized him the very first time they met, from the moment his hand touched hers.

Without realizing it, Aeris moved towards the figure and away from her mother. Her left hand slowly extended as she closed the gap between them. The man in gray held out his right hand cautiously, as if afraid to touch her. She took it without reservation, fingers intertwining with his. He flinched, his body tensing as if discomfited by the contact. His reaction confused her. This close to him, Aeris peered up at his hidden face to look for answers. She could barely make out his lips and nose from the darkness. Did he find this meeting as strange and frightening as she did? Dreamily, she squeezed his hand and wondered what was going on. She didn't want this; she didn't want him, whoever he was. She wanted... what _did_ she want? What was going on?

"You are initiating your bond with him -- without this first step a true link between the two of you will not last. This one is not as compatible as Cloud was."

It was the truth. Cloud's emotions had always come in strong and as clear as the ringing of a bell. This other was not so easy to interpret, even with a semi-physical connection. Something about this guardian troubled her and she tried to grasp it with her mind. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying hard to find where her feelings came from. Nothing came to her and soon she was drawn more deeply into the powers that connected her with him as the heavens bound her to the stranger in gray. What sense she could make of his personality was so subtle as not to be named. The only standouts were a soul crushing sense of loneliness and the deepest well of sorrow she'd ever felt. They overwhelmed Aeris, who was far too free with her own emotions for one so empathetic. Nearly drowning in the empty waves of his anguish, she had to pull herself back a little to regain composure. Whoever this was, they were a soul tormented.

She gazed lazily at her guardian, her eyes trailing down his arm to his wrist and the string of prayer beads that poked out from his sleeve. They were much like her own, only his were made of pale green jade and of a simpler design. The individual beads were smooth and without decoration, held together by a single obsidian bead with a long tassel attached made of black silk. It didn't take a genius to discern that his beads must serve the same purpose as hers, leaving Aeris to wonder why he'd need them. She supposed that her guardian might have relatives still living, but the way her mother had talked she'd assumed otherwise.

The thought was banished in a wave of pure emotion and nothing mattered as they became as one, souls intertwining. They were dancers in the dark now, feeling and knowing nothing but each other. Tumbling blindly as the stars wrapped their luminescence around them, binding the intermingling spirits as they were called across the universe. It was warm and dark, and for an instant neither felt the loneliness that plagued them in life. A sense of oneness enveloped them and neither could tell where one began and the other ended. How could her mother think that this one wasn't suitable for her? Thoughts meandered and time stood still as the last High Summoner and her knight sunk deeper and deeper into the restful dark, their souls twirling giddily through the stars.

Ifalna watched detachedly as a wind whipped around the fading form of her daughter and the man who'd been bonded to protect her. The sky darkened and the trees shuddered as a violent wind ripped blossom and leaf from their boughs. Petals whirled around summoner and guardian and the beads that bound them lit with an eerie luminescence. The girl's consciousness was slipping but she was aware of what was happening to her mother's gift. The flower girl's eyes opened slightly, their gaze languidly distant. There was alarm in them as the beads broke apart and exploded into a million orbs of dancing light. She looked up, astonished to find the same thing had happened to her guardian's beads. The balls of light pivoted and with a loud whistle the beads exchanged owners. From far away she questioned her mother through a tenuous mental link. _What's happening? Why_...

Ifalna shouted to her urgently: "Aeris, there isn't much time. They hope to sow enmity where there should be trust. Your souls are the same but in life you were at odds. Those beads are a test of faith. Whoever brings them to you is your intended and you must accept him without reservation_._"

Her daughter's face betrayed complete and utter confusion before it went slack as she gave into the spell weaved about her. The wind picked up speed, sending a hurricane of petals around the couple. No longer were they just holding hands. Without their thinking minds to hold them back they surrendered to pure instinct and they held each other in a tight embrace as white light enveloped them.

The older cetra watched with seeming passivity, masking the storm in her heart. She longed to tear her daughter away and keep her here but there were more important things in the world than motherly duty. The needs of the one mean little. It was a proverb all cetra knew well.

Ifalna stood calmly, the long sleeves of her kimono whipping in the wind. The light was now so bright she couldn't even make out the form of her own daughter. The winding ribbons of the lifestream curled slowly upwards until it became a single stream of flowing power erupting from the ground. The world shook and Ifalna had to shut her eyes against a blinding white gold light. For an instant, it brightened and soundlessly imploded, leaving in its wake a starburst of illumination that faded quickly. When Ifalna was finally able to open her eyes, her daughter and her guardian were gone, merged with the lifestream as they journeyed from death to life.

She clasped her hands in front of her, pensively staring out into space. The trees rustled and Ifalna closed her eyes, aware of another presence just behind her. There was a light cough and Ifalna almost chuckled that the person behind it felt the need to make herself known.

"This is quite a gamble, Ifalna, and I'm not so sure it'll work," said a soft voice nervously, waiting for the older woman to acknowledge her.

The cetra smiled, looking back at her human companion with compassion. She was a mousy young woman with long dark brown hair and pale alabaster skin. It was an earthy beauty, her form attractive not for the mystery it held but for the simple honesty of her features. The woman looked up at Ifalna through her glasses with worry in her eyes; it was obvious that the young scientist didn't trust her. This one was too used to the easy rules and facts of an educated mind trained to disbelieve the immeasurable. It saddened the cetra that humans were so disconnected and unable to trust in the planet as she did, though she understood her worry all to well: It was a mother's concern for her child.

After a long moment of silence, Ifalna turned around to look at the clearing where her daughter once stood. "In all the things we do there is an element of chance. We must have faith..."


	3. Certain People I Could Name

_This life's dim windows of the soul_

_Distorts the heavens from pole to pole_

_And leads you to believe a lie_

_When you see, with, not through the eye_

_--William Blake_

With what price comes honor? What separates the just man, the honorable man, from the unjust? Does an unjust man even have honor? Is it stripped from him by his actions or is there still a shred of it left behind -- forgotten in the recesses of his mind? Is it because of honor or to spite it that a man may turn from what is just and righteous to a path of evil? Is man inherently evil or inherently good? Questions posed throughout time and yet there are no easy answers.

The natural inclination of man is to believe in the simplest explanation. All men are born with honor and it is a moral choice to keep it or discard it. It is an absolute. At birth, we all have clean slates. We all like to believe a child will become someone important. A leader, a teacher, an artist, whatever their path, it is hoped they become someone decent. We hope that their honor remains in tact. We hope that they are "good". But what does it mean to be good? For some, it is as meaningless a concept as honor -- nothing more than words that hold a person to society's expectations. Black and white. Good and evil. Hold true to society's expectations or suffer alienation. These rules and codes are not created without reason. At birth, your slate _is_ clean but as time passes, the slate becomes marked. Without rules, there is anarchy. Yet within those rules there lies danger. For humanity is both good and evil.

What qualities does one attribute to the honorable man and what makes him so different than one without honor?

The honorable man does what is right even at grievous cost to himself or the ones he loves. The honorable man respects society's code. The honorable man is selfless, holding the needs of many over the needs of one.

The dishonorable man is selfish in his individuality. He is a hero in his own mind and because he flouts society's rules, he is branded as evil. There are no rules for the dishonored, only those he makes himself. Honor means nothing to this man, only his own glory matters or so the stories tell.

Stories are mere fiction, truth twisted by the hands of the writer. The difference between the hero and villain is not nearly so cut and dry. There are qualities of both in every person and we all have our own personal agendas. Hero and villain in most cases are subject to their humanity. We all desire, we want, we need, and those things drive us and in the end it's only our own personal truths that determine our paths.

Alas, the winners write history and the winners see their enemy as anything but human. That gray space, between human and inhuman is filled in, until there's nothing left but black and white.

So, what is the difference between hero and villain? Motives. Beliefs. Truths. Both believe passionately in their cause and are willing to die for them. Both fight for friends or family -- alive or dead -- and the very right to exist and continue to do so. They fight for freedom. They fight for what they think is right, even if it is flawed. And there is the crux of the issue. What they think -- what they _believe_.

What if everything you ever believed was a lie? After a very short time it would be hard for anyone to discern the truth from pretense. Good and evil would become blurred. The truth disappears into this moral vacuum and all that remains is a vacuous well of lies -- echoing off the walls like a siren's song, allowing us to believe whatever we want without consequence.

Everyone needs something, anything, to hold on to. A central truth that gives meaning to one's life -- an anchor that ties you to the rest of the world. The just man has these anchors; ties that bind him to society at large. No matter how confused or tormented, the hero always has truth to hold on to. The villain has nothing but misguided beliefs, lies twisted into truths, whether by his own making or by the whisperings of another; either way, there is little that anchors the unjust man and he is set adrift, grasping at the endless tide for anything to hold onto.

So what can be said of the unjust man? A man who was grasping for truth but only found more lies. Does such a man truly deserve redemption? Even after all the evil he wrought; even after he destroyed so many lives. Does the misguided soul warrant saving or should he be thrown the inferno for his folly?

One such soul stood alone, unable to merge with the lifestream; rebirth was forbidden from him; his sin was too great and his crimes too unforgivable.

He hung in the wake of the lifestream, between the world of the living and the dead. The tendrils of creation swirled around him, cutting a wide swath as to avoid his very presence. The spell that should have allowed it to obliterate his very existence instead protected him, wrapping him in a shroud of pure white light. No one in the heavens knew quite what to do with the fallen warrior or why the spell meant to destroy him protected him instead. Many voices cried out for divine judgment, for revenge. These voices became a cacophony of sound and if he still had ears to hear with, he'd have stopper-ed them against it. Souls reaching out from the river of life to try and claw their way through holy's shield, to no avail, the magic protecting him was powerful and those angry spirits could not reach him.

The shield, his presence, all of it served to perplex the powers that be, for they had not authorized the protection of a mad man. Rather, they'd set up his execution. The punishment for trying to overthrow heaven was severe. For the evil he unleashed, the cruelty he inflicted, this fallen angel's soul would be erased from existence completely.

He knew better than anyone what he'd done, though he hadn't realized as of yet what a grand lie he'd been living. Still believing in his heart that he was right, he cared little if they punished him. Let them, pain was something he was accustomed to. From beginning to end, all he'd ever known was cruelty and it was no surprise that the tradition would continue unabated. Deep down he wished the damned spell protecting him would vanish and allow those angry spirits to tear him apart. Oblivion seemed so much nicer than anything else. Then again, that would be kind and he expected that his death would be as pitiless as his life. So it was with great surprise when a single voice called out in his support, suggesting redemption rather than retribution. There were murmurs of dissent but by will alone she persevered. This unknown angel's voice rose above all others and what she had to say could not be ignored. _"By the laws of heaven, I invoke the right of Inulgenica Per Modum Sufragii." _

What that meant, he couldn't guess. His fate and his punishment had been decided without him even realizing it, while he stared into the nothingness in shocked silence, still utterly confused by the angel's words.

Her voice had been gentle and sweet, there was a mysterious regality suspended in it that revealed she was much more than she seemed. He had no conception of what she looked like, as there was nothing but the endless green and blue of the lifestream. The woman's voice was slightly familiar, a much older version of a similar, yet more girlish voice he'd heard before but from where? From the ether, he could finally see her face. Deep green eyes glared at him, her words reaching out to him without need for a voice. _To receive redemption, the heart must be willing to pay the price for its penance, and you owe so very much. Remember_....

He was in the ancient city once more, a place forgotten by humanity and time. Far underneath him, in the bowels of the city, the little cetra had prayed. She thought that she could stop him with some pretty bauble and a spell, but he knew better. At first his intention had been to kill her outright but something had stopped him. She seemed so innocent, so pure and a part of him as forgotten as the city itself stirred. His mother had told him she was a threat to their plans and must be immediately removed before she proved to be an obstacle. At the time, he barely understood how something as frail as she could be a threat to anything. She was Strife's woman, the puppet seemed to pretend to care for her and it was she that prevented him from properly manipulating the boy. Her death could serve as a motivation. Still...

Once again, he balked, whatever morality was left in him revolted at the idea of killing purity itself. A part of him knew that killing her would steep his soul in greater sin than anything else he could do. That part of his subconscious could see her true form. She was a pure soul. The white aura that surrounded her marked her as one of heaven's servants. Even his mother couldn't deny it. For the first time in five years he and mother disagreed. For the first time there was something he was unwilling to do for her. He tried to manipulate the puppet into doing it. Let him bear the sin of killing such a pure creature but the damned boy resisted and his mother was not pleased. She howled at him to end his games and just do it. He resisted but it was to no avail, his mother wrapped herself around his mind and squeezed.

For a moment or two he almost managed to avert submission to her will, for a moment. His mother had always known what pained him the most -- all those memories he worked hard to forget smothered him: Visions of childhood torture and loneliness. How he hated being alone. Above all the emptiness of his own mind was the worst and she'd left him there to contemplate his disobedience in a crumpled heap, crying and gibbering in the dark. _You are nothing without me_. She whispered to him as she sent waves of pain through his fevered brow. It was wrong, so wrong but... but... but it hurt too much to resist and he was weak.

He'd swept down from above and he gutted her like a fish. Her blood pooling on the floor in a gory display of cruelty, her friends gathered about her in absolute shock and horror. Their stunned sobs had echoed in his mind like a reverberating gunshot. The little cetra's slaughter had sealed his death warrant, though his mother counted it as victory. He knew it wasn't anything close to that. Avalanche would kill him. They'd hunt him down and exterminate him like a rabid dog.

It was then that he began to wonder if he was on the right side. She didn't deserve to die -- she was cetra, like him, like mother. They should have been on the same side. Why would she choose to stand in his way if he were right? Through the madness, he saw that there was a clear flaw in the truth he'd held on to but it was far too late to turn back. He pushed those doubts aside and set them back with all the other memories he wished to forget. In that moment, everything that once had been him receded and all that was left was Jenova. If so little of his will was left that he couldn't even prevent the death of one innocent, what was the point in resisting any longer? All chances for honor and glory died as his spirit submitted and his will to live vanished. His body was a husk, a tool, a brush with which to paint the world in whatever color _She_ liked. Let Jenova have what she wanted; it wasn't like he needed his will anymore. She took away his pain and he gave her an instrument to wield against the world.

Quiet desolation overwhelmed him. Right or wrong, he deserved to be here. Slow changes had taken place within his tortured soul as those parts of his personality he buried resurfaced. His mind was so clear now, without the strange sense of muddled arrogance that clouded him before. He was insulated then, his mind protected by Jenova's fog. She let him forget and to forget was blissful for remembering led to the knowledge of his painful, loveless existence. Jenova was his drug and he eagerly drowned in her. She gave him what he thought he wanted and for a brief, sparkling moment, he'd felt loved and needed. That feeling subsided once he'd murdered the little cetra and the only thought that brought palpable peace was that he would soon be dead and of no use to anyone.

The shadows of memory latched onto him, dug into his flesh as he remembered everything in clear, painstaking detail everything he'd done from the moment he fell into darkness. Whether it was god or the devil that took him, he didn't care, his only wish was for those memories to stop. They reminded him of the pain he'd inflicted, reminded him of his own tortured past. He was vaguely aware he was no longer in the lifestream, though the name of where he was now was a mystery. It could be hell; certainly wasn't heaven. Choking back a scream, the man that was Sephiroth tried to brace himself against the powerful waves of remembrance.

These memories never stopped, they pulsed through him and just when he thought he couldn't take much more, they'd yield. Only to come back again with renewed strength. He cried till there was nothing left, screamed his throat raw, prayed to the gods--begging any one of them to listen, yet it made no difference. It went on and on, battering him with the facts of his misguided life. There was no promise of release and if the memories did relent, it would not be because they were concerned for him.

They wanted him to break, to admit that he was wrong. No matter how hard the facts pushed, Sephiroth refused to admit defeat. He was an obstinate man and though he knew he'd made a grave error, he'd never admit it. Never again would he be broken by outside forces and twisted to another's will. He resisted the assault on his mind, refusing the memories that attempted to surface. But no matter how hard he tried, they would not stop and for the first time since he was young, he knew fear. The powers that forced his memory would most certainly outlast him. He had cried out multiple times to his mother, Jenova, but all he received was silence, the comforting numbness she brought never came and he was left to writhe in a world of abject terror, filled with white and gray and limitless anguish.

He wasn't a fool; Jenova was not an easy entity to defeat. Even if her body were dead, the cells still inside him would remain intact. The heavens tore her apart, leaving little behind. In her last, agonizing moments, he could hear her resonating laughter, harsh and biting at his apparent failure as a son and as a man, before she abandoned him to his punishment. Twice bested by a mere puppet -- a shadow of himself and a rag-tag group of humans, he was worthless to her. An abject disappointment to anyone and everyone whose lives he touched. As her control left, the tide of memory worsened. The agony she'd kept from him for so long bursting free, charging forward like a mad bull. Those things she helped him to forget returned. The feelings he so long suppressed freed themselves and he lost all sense of self within the chaotic surge. And that void he so hated encircled him and, vice-like, ensnared what little resistance he had left, breaking his will in two like a dry twig.

Sephiroth was bewildered and in pain, and without anything to hold onto. Curled into a fetal position, his head in his hands, he mentally screamed at the planet to take him; wanting nothing more than the lifestream to scour him from its memory. He wasn't a thing worth saving and pleaded for the finality of oblivion, cursed as he was, it never came and the scream he'd choked back earlier was let loose in the empty plains of purgatory.

The pain he felt stopped abruptly as his scream tapered off into a subdued whimper. Trembling violently, he assumed this reprieve would be short, it always was, and Sephiroth steeled himself for the inevitable onslaught. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes cautiously and pushed himself off the ground with cat-like grace, each movement slow and deliberate. Sephiroth quickly took in every detail of his new surroundings, muscles taut as he anticipated an attack, mental or physical. He frowned, perplexed at the completeness of their serenity, so unlike the gray wasteland he'd laid in before. Not that he knew really what his prison cell looked like; he was too busy staving off the pain to really take note. Still, this place was different that the abode of fear and agony he'd just left, and it made him doubly suspicious. Whoever or whatever oversaw his punishment was obviously playing a new game with him.

He was in a forest and it occurred to him that it was more than likely an illusion. No real forest was quite this perfect and most were comprised of many different varieties of vegetation. This forest felt strange and unnatural because this one was filled with mile after mile of nearly identical trees set into neat and orderly rows.

Before he'd gone mad, he'd had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the world around him. He was blessed with a photographic memory and he was able to absorb and retain anything he'd ever read, seen or heard. This talent had faded once insanity had taken hold and Jenova had done her part by suppressing much of what had come before her. With his newfound clarity of mind, all that pent up knowledge surged forward. It had a place in his life again and it was eager to be used. There was a moment of delight when he realized he knew what kind of trees surrounded him. _Betula papyrifera_, commonly referred to as the white birch.

This realization startled him a little and the emotion he felt downright alarmed him. There was something definitely amiss. Moving forward seemed like a good idea, as standing around doing nothing made him a target. Something had brought him to this place, he was determined to find it and put an end to its games. He glanced around, quickly scanning the area with wild eyes as he began to stride forward. His gait was smooth and confident, despite being unnerved by his current situation.

The eerie white bark of the trees glowed luminously in the soft green light, lending an ethereal quality to the forest that did nothing to calm his nerves. A breeze suddenly shifted gray-green leaves and they rustled noisily. The pleasant _shhh_ sound that they made should have been comforting and indeed, it was supposed to have done just that. It was the forest's attempt to put him at ease. Unfortunately, it proved to accomplish the opposite, putting the former general in a state of heightened alarm.

Was this a test of some kind or just another pathetic attempt to break him? Sephiroth was aware that he'd frustrated his jailers by resisting their attempts to cow him into submission. He snorted derisively; they'd decided to change tactics, hoping by putting him into an unfamiliar situation that he'd be easier to conquer. Whatever it was, it wouldn't work.

He hated this. Hated the way people toyed with his life like it was a game. He was dead for god's sake! What was the point in playing pointless, stupid mind games when submerging him in a lake of fire would accomplish the goal of punishing him much quicker?! In life he'd been nothing more than a tool and apparently he'd be spending his afterlife in the same way. _No, No more_! He'd be no one's instrument. These games would end and those who toyed with him would regret making a mockery of his existence.

His original personality had taken back what was his; the incoherent mad man had left with Jenova. There was cautious joy in his newly clear mind. He was willing to admit to himself, in part, that he was glad mother was gone. The thought made him pause and shake his head at the foolishness of it. It had been the only one who cared for him and now she was gone.

He snapped acidly at his own traitorous thoughts, _Yes, she cared so much that she just gave up and left you to your fate just like everyone else in your life._

Sephiroth came to a dead stop as he contemplated the weight of that realization. Jenova had been destroyed; he could plainly feel her absence. She didn't need him anymore -- he was a failure in her eyes and so she'd moved on, allowed herself to be torn away from him. All this time, she'd used him, like Shinra had used him. Was she even his mother? If she were, why would she throw her son to the wolves like that? Was he that unbearable that not even his own mother wanted him?

_Too many painful questions_... He closed his eyes and minutes passed as he stood as still as stone. Odd, his face flushed with repressed emotion but his heart remained dead and cold. It wasn't that much of a surprise that his mother would leave him because he'd always been unwanted. What was a surprise was that it hurt. It actually _hurt_. Furiously, he denied the emotion. He was beyond it, above it. There was a glassy obsidian rock where his heart should be -- he was a remorseless monster. He felt nothing. He was nothing. So why did he feel as if his whole world had fallen apart? Why did he _feel_ at all?

Sephiroth struggled to retain a semblance of control but he could do nothing about the mournful wail of his heart, crushed by the knowledge that no one had cared for him, nor would they ever. Again he was shoved aside without a place or a purpose, distantly grasping for the simple comfort that normal people took for granted. Why were wretched human traitors luckier than he?

All he'd ever wanted was to feel as if he belonged somewhere. He wanted to be able to answer simple questions without having to say I don't know. He wanted a mother and a father... a hometown... He longed for normalcy. That's all he ever asked for. He didn't even know his own birthday, if something like him could have such a thing. Hell, he'd settle for knowing when he was created. They were simple ideas... normal concepts and fully beyond his reach.

He'd watched the soldiers under his command with their families and their friends, and he envied them for what they had. There were times when he'd hear them complain about their parents, siblings or girlfriends and he wanted nothing more than to strike them for not seeing how lucky they were. He killed to have what they did.

Sephiroth had never understood the basics of human interaction. His tutors at Shinra had taught him manners, had given him lessons in higher-class social graces but without affection it meant nothing. He was a research specimen, not a child, and they treated him with cold, clinical curiosity. Any lessons they taught were lost on the child, who learned by example. Oh, he was a gentleman, they'd accomplished that much, who managed to create a thin veneer of civility but without any warmth in the gestures he'd been taught.

By the time he reached adulthood he'd become a detached, rather emotionless person with an off-putting personality that was only intensified by his intimidating appearance. On the rare occasion when he would try to fit in, to be normal, it had always ended in disaster. He could mimic human reaction, but not well enough to fool anyone with eyes and ears.

With each day that passed that sense of his not belonging was beaten into him, sometimes literally. After awhile, he'd given up entirely and stopped trying to fit in altogether. Discontentedly watching from the sidelines wondering what made him so different. What was he and where did he come from? And why was he so alone in the world? Wasn't this what he had run from before -- this not knowing? It had made him willing to kill, willing to damn himself for all eternity. He was so desperate for answers that he grabbed at the first thing held out to him and took it for absolute truth.

Very unlike the skeptical, analytical man he'd been before. He'd been a good general for those reasons. He always needed more than mere presumption or educated guesses when making a decision,insisting on having pure facts and certain knowledge before he'd deign to move forward on a given task. This rationality of thought was reserved for work, which he had in abundance. He'd been a purposeful workaholic, because working kept him from thinking about his existence. What little details he had of who and what he was were personal matters for him, and those questions being brought up by others tended to cause unpredictable fits of temper. The desire to have answers for why he was what he was overrode anything and everything else. This desire had led him to believe a lie. A lie that had consumed all he'd worked for and went against everything he thought he believed in.

He had to grab onto the gnarled bark of one of the trees with one hand to support himself as his mind entered a nearly hysterical state. Feeling light headed and nauseous as his newly released emotions nearly overwhelmed him. His anger rose, at himself for being so foolish and desperate and at Jenova for deceiving him. She promised love and acceptance and had only given him pain, lulled him with power and the sweet embrace of forgetful nothingness while she let him soak in sin. He was her flunky, sent in to do the dirty work while she got the prize at the end of it all. His eyes had sealed shut as he shook with rage.

Without looking, he slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree he'd been using to hold himself up. The tree creaked as the dent caused by his strike turned into a great vertical split that traversed upwards and the trunk was cleaved into two identical halves that fell to the ground with a thunderous crack. Bits of wood, dust and leaves drifted to the ground as the clamorous noise died down and calm was restored. Shafts of golden light drifted down, their rays caressing his still trembling form with rare gentleness.

Slowly he opened his eyes; they were dull and lifeless as looked at the fallen tree with seeming disinterest. Everything he touched, he destroyed. No more. It'd end here. He had spent his entire life in a wash of pain and confusion, and by god, he wouldn't spend his afterlife the same way. His fists clenched, he turned his head to the illusory sky.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!"

Nothing answered. Not a whisper from the wind. Not a the rustle of a stray leaf. The forest remained dead silent to his request, leading the former general to stew in angry silence at its seeming disinterest in his search for answers. His breath came in fast, furious bursts of air that punctuated the torrent of emotions that slipped through his lean frame. Sephiroth bowed his head, his resolve weakening, fists still clenched. He saw what this was now. This was a more subtle form of torture, to let him wander through this silent forest with only his own thoughts. The heavenly equivalent of sending you to your room to think about what you've done. The forest was treating him like a child and it should have insulted him but it didn't. In a way, he was a child still and he could no longer deny it. He knew nothing but presumed he did, and on this presumption the planet and all its inhabitants suffered because of him. Simple acceptance of his impulsive and childishly destructive ignorance was all it took, and while he stood in shame-faced silence, the forest opened the gates of knowledge for him.


	4. If I Needed Someone

_Without the heart, there can be no understanding between the hand and the mind._

_--Thea von Harbou_

Adur'rta was the name of the forest in which Sephiroth wandered, though it really wasn't a forest at all but a bridge between planes of existence. It merely took this form for the one who wandered it wished it to be so. It was a bridge between purgatory and the planet's heart. In the past, it had been used to usher redeemed souls back into the lifestream. Due to Jenova's interference, that bridge had been closed for some time. It was open now; however, Sephiroth was not ready yet to receive such salvation. He was taken here to continue what one low-level cherubim had begu, in hopes of salvaging his soul.

There are many paths one could take on the road to redemption and it was with purpose that the cherubim had chosen this one. Its name was at the heart of her choice. Adur was in used in the celestial tongue to indicate a spiritual force that unites. Rta had many meanings, though in the simplest of terms it was the celestial word for path. It represented the cosmic forces of the universe; the sun rises and sets because it follows this path, the river flows, children are born... all because they follow Rta, the path of life. The path of truth.

Sephiroth knew none of this but he did sense that the power that led him here had deigned to answer him. He was unsure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, he did want to know why he was brought here. It was obvious to him that this place was sacred, too pure for someone like him. Still, he was curious, what could they tell him now that he didn't know already and why would they bring an abomination like him to what was obviously holy ground? The promise of finally finding answers for all of his questions was tempting. To at last know, what he was, who his parents were... it was beyond tempting, something he wanted, needed. At the same time, he'd learned from bitter experience that knowledge comes with a price. Answers he might get, but would they be the truth? How could he possibly trust that whoever or whatever sent him here was not just lying to him as Jenova had? The answer was, of course, that he could not be sure nor would he trust what he was told and it dissatisfied him.

So it was with wonder and trepidation that he watched as the forest around him ripple. What he took for reality was undulating like the surface of a pond after a stone had been thrown in. From formless darkness ebbed a pinprick of light -- it reached out for him, twisting and twining -- lapping over his form like a crashing tidal wave. An eternity seemed to pass and he was lost within the deluge. Surrounded by chiming voices that sang to him with words he could not comprehend. He longed to understand. They soothed him, lent him a kind of peace he never even knew existed and if he could only comprehend the words, those voices would impart to him limitless wisdom. In the back of his mind he perceived that someone like him hardly deserved to hear this song. It was by unknown grace that he'd been allowed to listen and he was grateful of it. For an ignorant fool such as he, this was more than he could hope for and all that he could ask.

This journey did not last long and soon he was ripped away from the planet's pleasant melody. The light receded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him dazed and momentarily blinded. Blinking away the spots that blurred his vision, he started. He was still in that damnable forest, and now he wasn't alone. In the distance was a woman, her back turned to him. Sephiroth could feel his stomach sinking. It was bad enough that heaven played games with him, sending him on pointless journeys, plaguing him with unwanted memory and in general fucking with his mind. Now they would send some phantom, a specter from his past to torment and abuse him. The lake of fire never seemed more inviting. With a resigned sigh, he dug in and prepared for the worst.

The woman turned and Sephiroth made every effort not to acknowledge she was there. She came closer and through lidded eyes, he watched her approach. His outward show of cold indifference was a shameless facade and though he'd never admit it, he was actually nervous. There were many people he'd killed over the years. He'd made a habit of not memorizing individual kills; rather, he kept those memories blurred. Jenova had once helped in that regard and with great bitterness he knew that she was also the reason he killed so wantonly. With her gone he was afraid of remembering. Terrified to confront what he'd done.

He wasn't a killer, the man he was before had never enjoyed it; had only killed when he was ordered to. During his days as a general he'd reduce his memories of battle to a blur of images. Like a movie on fast forward, his memory would fly by -- one image unrecognizable from the next. It was easier that way because to slow it down, he'd have to see the death in his victim's eyes. He'd have to look upon the lives he destroyed and acknowledge them as beings whose futures he'd taken away.

"Sephiroth?"

Something in the way she said his name made him turn his head. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to have gaze on an innocent victim of his own stupidity. It was now too late. She was an older woman, perhaps in her late thirties, early forties, of medium height with long dark hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, held in place by a black lacquered clasp. Her heart shaped face was wide and guarded in expression; eyes of cool jade, much like his own, which gazed back at him behind a thin pair of glasses. The woman reminded him of any number of lab assistants he knew from his youth in Shinra, though she was not dressed in the hospital scrubs so typical of her kind. Instead, she sported a simple summer dress. Bright gold and orange maple leaves embroidered onto the smooth silk, contrasting with the dark plum of the fabric.

A wash of guilt hit him as he realized he didn't recognize her. He'd killed _that_ many people. Hardening his gaze, he didn't allow it to show. The woman smiled, oblivious to the discomfort she was causing him, ignoring his harsh glares. He paused, surprised by her reaction. This was not the attitude of a victim. There was no accusation, no bitter recrimination. There was relief on the woman's face and something else, something he was unused to seeing on another person's face when looking upon him. Was she glad to see him? He was becoming uneasy, the feeling increasing with each minute he spent in here.

Nothing about this place made any sense, whatsoever. Just when he thought he had it figured out, when he perceived some sort of predictability, everything would change. Leaving him unfocused and constantly unbalanced. He hated the intangible. Hated it because everything about himself was intangible: His heritage, his family, all of it was intangible, a cold case that would never get solved -- left to rot in a cardboard box in some warehouse somewhere, while he waited for answers. He'd had enough of intangibility, this place only added to the mystery and he certainly didn't appreciate it.

This warmly smiling wraith was unwelcome and he wanted nothing to do with her, or this unreality. He wished she'd leave, so that he could go back to his prison and the mind numbing pain that was his afterlife. Pain, he could understand. She stood there all the same, near yet so far from him, as if knowing to come any closer would provoke unnecessary confrontation.

"Sephiroth," she repeated, this time it was not so much a question as a confirmation. "It is you.. my god. You're so tall."

She wasn't someone he'd killed, he knew it the moment those words came from her mouth. None of his victims would speak to him like that, in a tone that was almost wistful, full of longing and affection. This woman -- she was something else entirely. Anger blossomed again at the presumptuousness of heaven. The sheer gall it took to do this to him. Keeping him constantly guessing at why they'd brought him here, what they wanted from him, only to taunt him. His eyes narrowed and he straightened his back, his gaze was piercing.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice so cold that every word stung.

In her face, he could see that his words hurt her but she remained unafraid. That fact alone made him angrier. It was as if she'd expected his hostility.

"Lucrecia. Lucrecia Crescent."

He didn't recognize the name, yet she spoke as if she knew him.

"I don't know you nor do I care to. What do you want?"

She balked, her lip trembling. This was not going as she'd planned. Lucrecia had waited a long time for this day, to finally meet her son. The moment had come but somehow, she couldn't find the words and he... he was distant and unreachable. She soldiered forward, finding it harder to keep her emotions at bay.

With great sadness entering into her voice, she answered: "Nothing, I just wanted to see you."

"Then you've accomplished your goal. Leave." He snorted, not surprised in the least when she didn't. _How terribly predictable_... Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "All I want is to suffer in peace so I'll kindly bid you to state your business or move on because enough of my time has already been wasted."

"I... needed... I-I came because," Lucrecia stammered, tears welled and she looked around helplessly as her carefully planned speech fell apart.

For the last thirty years she'd practiced what she'd say at this moment, choosing every word so that it resonated with meaning. The moment would be perfect. She would reveal to him the complete history of his past, his heritage. With her words, she'd convey to him how much she'd always loved him. How with her last breath she begged her husband to let her hold him. How that last wish was cruelly denied. She'd be able to finally apologize for her own weakness.

More than anything, she wanted to take the pain from him, to absorb it into herself. It was all her fault that his life had been a tortuous mass of misery and despair. If only she'd listened to Vincent, would her son even be standing here? The cetra had told her that it would not matter what she did. That certain things were predestined, Sephiroth's fall from grace was one of these things. Lucrecia was unwilling to accept such a cruel twist of fate. She had to believe that if things had been different, her son might not have been driven insane.

He waited while she thought. How easily had things fallen apart, wasn't that always the way it had been for her? She'd always been timid and unable to say the right thing, her foot permanently stuck in her mouth. Being a research scientist, she was unused to the basics of social interaction. She had spent most of her time in the lab, too shy and afraid of the world to poke her head out of her self-appointed gopher hole.

Hojo had hired her because of her essays into various genetic theorems, which were nothing short of brilliant. Her writing was eloquent and precise, leading many to believe the person behind them to be as forceful as the words themselves. Nothing could be farther from the truth. When she spoke, which was rarely, it was in a quiet near whisper. She was nervous and when forced to speak in public she would either start to stutter or worse, she'd get so over-excited that she'd tax her weak lungs, causing an inevitable asthma attack. Because of this, she'd always let Hojo or Gast speak for her.

It had always frustrated her that she was unable to communicate. Once more, it seemed, she was hampered by her own weakness. Her son stood there staring at her, waiting for her to say something and all she could do was tremble in fear. Not of him but of the words she longed to say. Looking into his eyes, she choked back an anguished cry though this did not stop her tears from falling. He was cold; _too_ cold. So cold that no amount of warmth could penetrate it. Not without those words which were lost to her now. Had she come all this way only to give up? She lost herself in a reeling torrent of emotions as she wept uncontrollably.

Lucrecia had always felt things deeply. Hojo had often commented that she felt too much. He'd insisted that her emotional reactions to situations hampered her objectivity as a scientist. And she knew in some ways he was right. She'd have been a better scientist if she looked at the world more clinically but then she'd be less human as well. The one time she had let logic overrule emotion had ended in tragedy. If she had listened to her heart and not her mind, her son might not have suffered as he did.

Hojo had promised her that no harm would come to the boy, promised that he'd make him stronger, better than human. She had no idea what he really had planned; the calculated effort with which Hojo had destroyed Sephiroth's future, purposefully keeping him from those things that made him human. Things he knew Lucrecia had valued so much. Deep in the recesses of her mind she'd always guessed her husband was going to do this, but she had hoped and for hoping she'd damned not only her own soul but that of unborn child. If only she'd listened to her heart, to the man she loved and the instinct she had always trusted implicitly. Then her son might have had a bright future. Maybe he'd be a scientist or an artist... _anything_ but what Hojo had carefully molded him into. Perhaps he wouldn't be here among the dead, forced to undertake a task that would undoubtedly lead to continued suffering on his part.

These were all should haves and could haves, and they did not matter. This was her one chance to make things right, her last chance.

Without thought, she blurted out through the choking waves of tears, "I'm your mother."

Sephiroth was impassively disinterested in what the wraith before him had to say, though he was amused by her antics, watching her face as she struggled with emotion, probably trying to appeal to his humanity by way of dramatic display. Did she really think that she'd sway him this way, with tears and shaking sighs? He could care less and found it to be the height of hilarity that she tried so desperately to manipulate him. So caught up in his own amusement, he had almost completely missed the half whispered confession that came so swiftly from her lips. Those words stopped him cold and his face went slack before being built up again by bright, fresh rage. He had been patient with these games up to this point, but a line had been crossed. This wasn't just presumptuous, it was cruel.

"What?"

One word, said in a voice that was simultaneously quiet and sharply commanding. She was afraid now because she could see the danger in his eyes. The cold hostility she'd felt before had nothing on this. His fury was palpable and it was murderously intense. The fire in his eyes quieted her and now she knew why all those who faced Sephiroth had feared him.

"Answer me."

She jumped, stumbling over her own words in a breathless whisper, "I-I... s-s-said I'm... I'm yuh-yu-your mother..."

His eyes narrowed into bright green slits and the world seemed to still around him. He let the anger wash over him, felt his emotions as they rippled away into nothingness. His darker urges rose up to him, wanting to strike this woman down for spouting such lies. The lunatic he'd been would have killed her where she stood but he restrained himself. He wasn't that man anymore. Breathing in and out slowly to control his rage, he turned and without a word made as if to leave. If this was the answer heaven was going to give him, then he didn't want it. He didn't want some ridiculous wraith to come and claim to be his mother when he plainly knew she wasn't. A thing like him wasn't born, he was made. He had no human mother. No, he was the spawn of a monster -- a vile creation from the mind of a mad man. Let them punish him, drive him insane, beat him, torment him, he didn't care. But he would not be mocked, forced to endure bald faced lies that taunted him with what he wanted most. He'd put up with Shinra and believed Jenova when they dangled that carrot and he'd be damned if he'd take the bait a third time.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice was summer sweet, reminding him of tinkling chimes as they sang in the wind. He knew that voice. It was the voice of his green eyed would be savior, the one who'd spoken up for him in the lifestream -- the one who was responsible for putting him here. He jumped a little once he'd noticed how close she was to him, for truthfully he hadn't even seen her. Though he said nothing, he suspected that she'd used some power to appear before him, another heavenly trick used to keep him off balance.

"Leaving," he replied coldly.

The tiny woman smiled at him as he moved around her as if he could actually leave. Passing her, he was startled again by her appearance; a dim twin to another shadowed memory that seemed just on the surface of his mind. He had recognized her voice and now this simple upturned smile was so mind bogglingly familiar. There was a connection that wanted to be made and was so temptingly close to being found that it nearly stopped him in his tracks, nearly. He cut this curiosity off before it urged him to do something stupid and moved on. Whoever she was did not matter. She served the power that ridiculed him. No doubt she was sent here to humiliate him further. He didn't get far before she stopped him with smoothly spoken words in a voice that held not a hint of mockery. Her tone as simply gentle as it had been before.

"I never said you could leave."

The words spoken by any other would have seemed imperious, commanding. From her it sounded like a statement of unmovable truth and the lilting cadence of her voice held a hint of mirth, as if she thought him very silly for leaving.

"I don't recall asking you for permission," he snapped, his back still turned to her. "What makes you think I would?"

"Well, it would be polite. I risked so much in bringing you here, after all."

"Your mistake, not mine, but if it will facilitate my departure... may I leave?"

"So soon?" Her question was answered by the slight tilt of his head. "This woman _is_ your mother. She offers the truth. How can you walk away from that?"

"_Easily_," he sneered, turning slowly on his heel to glare at the woman with ill concealed anger. "She lies. You lie. And I am leaving."

The angel shook her head sadly. "So blinded by the lies you've been told that you disbelieve the truth when it's laid in front of you. How unfortunate." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "This changes nothing. She _is_ your mother and if you'd be patient enough to listen, she would be able to prove it to you."

He bowed his head and when he turned it up again there was no acceptance in his gaze. It was a glare of pure venomous hate that peered from beneath his brow, his lips curling into a small, lunatic smile as he laughed which was so quiet one could barely hear it, the tone made it no less menacing. It was a mirthless laugh, a bitter laugh. A laugh that resounded with the misery he'd been put through his entire life.

"My mother... My _Mother_..." He laughed harder as he tilted his head back, looking skyward before returning his gaze to her, his eyes so full of pain and resignation, an echo of that cold laugh in his words. "And I'm a cactuar's uncle... Jenova was my mother, so spare me your lies."

"Ah, I see. You're willing to accept the lies, fed to you by Shinra's own mad scientist, but not mine. Not hers. I have to say, I'm disappointed," she retorted, her voice still quiet and regally demure.

With swiftness that surprised even Sephiroth, she'd grabbed his hand. The one he'd used to cleave a tree in half. Her touch was gentle but firm. She lifted his hand so that he could see it and uncomprehendingly he complied with her unspoken request. His hand had been wounded; the knuckles were raw and bloody. The rivulets of blood that had been dripping from his fingers now twisted around his wrist, the dark red a marked contrast to the paleness of his own skin.

"Your blood runs red, Sephiroth. Not purple. You were born human and human you remain, no matter how vastly you've been altered. The _fact_ of your humanity is immutable and the sooner you accept it, the better."

He snatched his hand away, surprised at the reasonability of what she'd pointed out. The sheer obviousness of it nettled him. He would not be so easily won. "Why _should_ I believe a damn thing you say? You've given me no reason to trust you."

"Nor have I given you a reason for such distrust." She paused, gazing at him pointedly. The calm surface of her demeanor rippling momentarily, and he saw what she'd hidden beneath her collected exterior, rage, all of it directed at him. "If anyone has a reason to mistrust, it would be me. I spoke for you on behalf of my daughter and _your_ wasted soul. You would not be standing here if it weren't for me."

Her admonition stunned him but he wouldn't let her see. Carrying on with his belligerent facade, he snarled: "You speak as if I should be grateful to you."

Her green eyes flashed and the anger she tried so hard to conceal rolled forward, unchecked. "_You should_. You are to be given a second chance, and I assure you that doesn't happen very often -- especially for someone like you." He smirked at her, an arrogant and altogether foolish move on his part. The cetran angel's eyes went cold, the world darkening about her as she gathered her power. "Do you know what happens to those who slaughter servants of heaven? You think you know what suffering is -- You. Know. _Nothing_. Purgatory is a two-week holiday vacation in the sun compared to the hell you deserve. You are lucky, and should be _on your knees_ kissing my feet for what I've given you. Especially after all you've done to me and mine."

"Temper, temper. Aren't angels supposed to be patient and forgiving?" he mocked, not sensing the danger in baiting the Cetra.

"The lowest level of hell is reserved for souls like yours, those arrogant enough to challenge heaven and murder those who serve it. Perhaps, you'd like it better if I sent you there?"

With the merest wave of her hand she let him experience the cold void of hell. Contrary to popular belief, there was no lake of fire. No spirits of those you'd wrong that would torment you. Only the never ending dark and the constant pain it sent you. The horror and pain he caused in others strangling him as the place he was in sucked what little joy he had from him. Leaving his mind a cold and empty shell, with no barriers to lessen the misery the void had in store for him. It turned his mind to think of everything he'd ever done. Every murder committed and every act of insanity. They played over and over again; he was forced not just to remember, as he had in purgatory, but to relive them in the space of his own mind. Again there was no filter, no hope of comfort to be found. Only the lonely black of the void as it filled his head with fresh nightmare fodder.

To feel the heat from the flames of Nibelheim and the anguished cries of the men, women and children he slaughtered there. His sword cut through flesh like paper and he smiled with distant amusement at how fragile humans were. He enjoyed the scent of burned and cracked flesh that tainted the air with its sickness, took pleasure in the bleeding of their wounds and the blood spray. Saw beauty in the tangle of their spilt innards, staring down at them like a demonic fortuneteller. Reading their organs of if they were tealeaves. The blood of his victims covered him from head to toe in gore. The man he was wished to wash this blood from him, to purify the already desecrated temple that was his soul. The lunatic he became reveled in it and thirsted for more. Sephiroth looked on in horror as his doppelganger glared at him through the flames, a parody of a smile on its face as fire consumed the vision, rending it into bits of glinting ash.

The burning of Nibelheim melded into the glowing red fire of a meteor as it bore down on the denizens of Midgar. The screams of men, women and children as they tried in vain to run from the glowing orb that closed in on them inexorably. They rang in his ears as loudly as the crashing waves of the roiling ocean. With sickening detail, he watched as a mother and son were vaporized by the impact. It tore them apart, skin melting on the bone before cracking apart at the seams. The water held within their skin boiling with their blood as it oozed from their charred husks. Their mangled bodies holding their form until the meteor's heat was too much, fiercely rending the pair to dust. The only evidence of their existence a shadow burnt into what was left of the street. This happened time and time again. He was forced to relive every death in the city like this, forced to hear the strangling cries of once hopeful lives as they were torn from their bodies. All hope for himself dwindled with every scream he heard, every death he witnessed. And he realized then what a monster he really was.

The sheer brutality of the acts assaulted him... he'd done that and he'd enjoyed it. Oh, Jenova was behind it all but weak man that he was, he went along willingly. How many lives had he cut short for that lie? The void answered as a virtual tableau of every person he'd murdered, whether directly or indirectly. And he was forced to watch through their eyes as he slaughtered them... the void showing him what those lives could have become had he not crossed their path. He saw their last thoughts, felt the pain of their deaths, the pain that _he_ caused in _them_.

Going for the deathblow, the void turned his mind to the little Cetra. How easily his sword had torn through her flesh. The way the blood gushed from the wound, staining her pink dress. She slid forward, propelled by his boot. Her body turning as she fell to the ground, so that he could see her face. She was so innocent, lying there in a pool of widening blood. It flowed relentlessly forward, towards her unbound chestnut locks that spilled out around her like a corona of light. Slowly, the locks were soaked dark black with her blood until her hair was consumed by it, the result of his hate and arrogance marring her innocence forever. Her green eyes lidded in pain, half open and gazing skyward as she breathed her last. The one and only thing that had run through her mind at that moment was a feeling of relief. She'd succeeded in her task. More than that, she'd accomplished something greater. Joy, her friends were here. He... _Strife_... was here and that was all that mattered to her the moment his sword pierced her heart.

With a shudder, he was shown what her future should have been. The void let him see all that he'd taken from her, and all that would never be because of him. Let him feel her anguish, her loss as if it were his own. At that moment, something in him broke and Sephiroth wished, as he had many times before, that he'd never been born. The last nail struck and the void burned into his memory -- freezing him in that spot to fully comprehend the horror of his actions. From heaven, the void dangled him, holding him over the vision of her tiny body curled on its side and like the incoming tide, a pool of endless blood engulfed her.... and nothing could wipe that image from his mind.

Then it hit him, why the angel he spoke with now looked so familiar. Sephiroth let out a choked gasp at the realization. He had no reason to treat her that way, no reason to mistrust her, while she had every reason in the world to hate and condemn him. Yet she hadn't... _why_.... He tried to pull away, to swim from the empty waves of agony that tore him apart. The void left him no escape. Every time he tried to drag his mind from those images, they'd pull him back and hold him there. For in hell, there is no rest and the suffering it generates is relentless.

Ifalna watched the former general as he writhed on the ground, distantly saddened that it had to come to such a brutal display of power.

"What... what are you doing to him?" cried Lucrecia, who'd returned to herself, long forgotten by both Ifalna and Sephiroth in the blur of their confrontation.

"Teaching him a lesson."

The effect of the spell lessened and Sephiroth's body stilled as the last of his pain passed. He lay limply on the ground, breathing with shallow, agonized gasps. There was a terrible silence that hung over the forest.

"What did you do to him, Ifalna? Why did you..."

Holding up her hand, she quieted her human companion with a steely gaze. There are lessons all beings must learn. Sephiroth needed to know there were things greater and more powerful than himself. As far as he'd come, there were still things he was unable to admit, things his arrogant pride prevented from overcoming. He needed that arrogance taken from him, crushed under the boot heel of a power that rendered him insignificant.

"Get up."

He didn't obey at first, still in too much pain to move. Eventually he pushed himself up with a moan, his shaky arms barely holding him -- able only to sit cross-legged on the ground. Ifalna waited patiently, dark green eyes boring into the man in front of her. He could feel her gaze, it struck at his very heart and he was unable to look at her, hanging his head in shame for his foolish behavior. His shoulders slumped and a despondent sigh escaped his lips. Was this how it was to be? Would he continually prove himself to be a fool? Yes, it seemed that was his fate. A fool, he was a fool.

"In the forgotten city... the girl I killed. She was your daughter?"

"Yes." She paused, collecting herself momentarily before she began again. "She has a name, you know."

She sent another wave of memory at him. His eyes opening blindly as the vivid images passed through him. From clouded sunlight a vision of the little Cetra came unbidden, ripped from within him. Her back was to him, her long chestnut hair unbound and twirling giddily in the wind. Motes of dust floating around her through the filtered light like a strip of faded celluloid. A long forgotten movie, left on the studio shelves to gather dust.

She turned, so slowly that it seemed as if he'd never see her face and once their eyes met, it was as if time stopped. Her dark emerald eyes swirled with warmth and wisdom he couldn't begin to fathom. They pulled him in and she seemed to loom above him. Long tendrils of golden brown hair moved above him, dancing in a light breeze. She looked down at him then, closing her eyes as a slim hand moved upward to hold back her hair, pushing the stray curl behind her ear before opening those eyes again. Those eyes so full of acceptance, forgiveness he didn't deserve. And when they finally opened, she smiled. His one reaction was that of unadulterated fascination and he reached out as if to touch her. _Beautiful_... the word slipped from his lips before he could stop it but it was of little consequence. Light effused her frail form, making her pale skin glow from within and without, as if she was made of it. Beneath her skin lay the power of creation, she was an angel though more earthly than ethereal. His hand continued to reach forward. He needed to see if she was real and as his hand neared her face the vision shifted into dust. Her name effortlessly etched into his memory.

This vision destroyed any last bit of resistance he had within him. Whatever the Cetra's mother would do to him, he deserved and would accept without question. He waited for it, to feel a blow that would obliterate him -- to feel her send him back to the void. Nothing came. Her mercy was worse than any torture hell could dole out and for a long time he just sat there trying to reason out her motivations. Until, finally, he found the courage to speak to her.

From his memory's lips the little cetra's name formed. "Aeris, her name was Aeris."

"Yes," Ifalna replied, a brief tremble came into her voice as she fought tears. Hearing her name coming from him was almost too much for her to bear.

He looked up at her then, his eyes swirling with confusion. "Why?" His voice cracked as he spoke. Broken by the realization of what he'd learned. "I don't understand..."

She understood his question. Why would she help him, after he'd killed her daughter? Yes, there was a vengeful part of Ifalna that wished to see him burn. That feeling in and of itself wasn't wrong but to let it harden her heart, was. Revenge is a double-edged sword. To see it through to the end, one must become what one hates. She was above such cruelty and petty revenge. Forgiveness is a harder road but in the end more rewarding. She had met the boy's mother, learned of his own suffering and the confusion he'd endured in life. He was a lost soul, nothing more than a cork in the ocean, bobbing with the current helplessly. She had taken it upon herself to direct him, this time along the right path.

We all strive to walk the path of truth and sometimes we fall. Sometimes we get lost and walk a darker road. It is only when another helps us up and leads us away from that darker place, do we grow and learn from our mistakes. Ifalna would serve as his beacon, his mother would be his guide and Sephiroth would once again walk Adur'rta without fear. She looked at him then and she was overwhelmed with pity. His expression was pained and uncomprehending, his world clearly changing all too quickly for him to deal with it rationally. How could she not pity him?

"You wouldn't," she answered him in the simplest terms. "Kindness is something that comes naturally when given freely. Never having felt it, it is no wonder you don't understand. This is your first lesson."

Ifalna smiled as she kneeled next to him and gracefully proffered her hand. He gazed from her to it, a look of horror and stark abject terror flickering across his features. Touching others was something he'd disliked and over the years, he rarely endured skin-to-skin contact for any length of time. Looking down, he shook his head imperceptibly, shying away from her side. Ifalna laughed lightly, noting how boyish he looked as he tried to turn in on himself. Trying to make himself smaller, a feat which was near impossible considering his height. She grabbed his hand, claiming it by force once more. He winced; wanting to pull away but knowing to do so might offend her. She stroked his injured hand gently, healing the wound with her touch. Undoubtedly he was discomforted and perplexed by her actions.

Turning, the Cetra regarded her human companion and held out her free hand. Her sudden outburst earlier had frightened the young scientist. Lucrecia didn't trust her as it was and Ifalna could not risk this tentative alliance. If Sephiroth were to recover, he would need his real mother's support and guidance. Hesitantly, Lucrecia obeyed, moving over quietly so that she sat next to the Cetra, who moved over to accommodate her.

Lucrecia was nervous; confrontation had never been her strong suit. The entire argument and subsequent resolution had left her unnerved. She was visibly shaken and nervously played with her hands as they sat in her lap, nearly jumping out of her skin when Ifalna touched them to still their movement. The contact was calming, immediately setting Lucrecia at ease. Though for a panicked moment she wondered if it was the touch itself or yet another demonstration of the mysterious power that dwelt within the Cetra. Biting her lip, she looked up, her eyes meeting Ifalna's. What she found there comforted her greatly. There was no guile in the gaze to indicate a spell had been woven. The Cetra's eyes were full of compassion and understanding, and an apology for her previous behavior.

Ifalna spared a glance at Sephiroth, noting he still hadn't moved. Carefully, she grasped both mother and son's hands, gently guiding them together -- releasing her hold on them. The moment she'd hoped to arrange finally came to fruition. Two lost souls had finally found each other: One mother, one son; both searching for absolution, for an end to the stagnancy of their existence, for that elusive thing called home. Holding hands after years of separation, a family was partially reunited. A sigh of relief escaped Lucrecia's lips and she felt tears well in her eyes once more.... _things may just work out_.


	5. Don't Let's Start

_I don't know why no one told you how to unfold your love._

_I don't know how someone controlled you._

_They bought and sold you._

_--George Harrison_

Lucrecia could close her eyes and remember the night her son was born as if it'd happened yesterday. It was the most beautiful January night she'd seen in a long time and that was saying something. In Nibelheim, beautiful winter nights were commonplace. This one, she had decided, had put all others to shame.

The sky was clear and nearly cloudless. Only a few scattered clouds marred the midnight blue and Lucrecia knew then why the night sky was so often referred to as the heavens. The moon was full and she'd basked in its light, looking upward as if searching for answers. Never in her life had she seen so many stars... and _how_ they had sparkled for her on that night, like they'd never shone for anyone at all, like it was their first time in front of an audience -- working hard to impress their lone viewer with their performance. She reveled in it, despite the biting cold of the night. Wrapping her robe closer, she stepped out onto the balcony of her room in the Shinra mansion. It had been months since she'd walked out like this. She'd been bedridden from all the treatments her husband had given her.

He'd promised to make her son stronger, promised that all the problems they'd had were of the past, that this was in no way revenge for her indiscretions. He had lied to her. Told her the injections she'd endured for the last eight months were vitamins -- specifically created by him to help the baby develop properly. He'd told her that it had no connection to his work on the Jenova project but she was no fool. She knew very well that he and Gast had begun preparations to secure approval for human test subjects. This gave her strong enough suspicion that she and her unborn child were his first, unofficial, experiments. The thought sickened her but what was she to do? She couldn't leave. He wouldn't let her, not without a fight. A fight Lucrecia knew she'd lose and she wasn't willing to risk something awful happening to her baby. She'd stay, for her child, she'd stay.

At that particular moment, none of that mattered. She was happy to finally get up and out of her bed, to see the stars. How she wished there was a way to go over them, to fly away from this dark place, so full of sadness and regret.

Being nine months pregnant everything was a lot more difficult, and her frail condition brought about by the treatments hadn't helped. It had taken five full minutes to get out of bed. She had to sit on the edge for a moment or two to catch her breath before getting to her feet. Her belly was quite rotund and she was often left feeling very fat, though she knew the weight she'd gained was mostly in baby, her current shape was still disconcerting to her. Lucrecia had always been on the thin side.

The whole experience was strange to her. Sometimes she'd forget she had a belly at all. Until she reached for something and it got in her way. But she wouldn't trade the discomfort the extra weight or any of the other slight inconveniences her pregnancy caused for the world. There was something to be said about bringing forth new life. It brought unparalleled calm and an odd sense of fulfilled joy to realize that a new little human grew within you. And you were responsible for that life.

Her work had always been the focus of her life up until that point. She'd never imagined a time in her life when there would be something that would replace it. Children, family -- they were things she'd rarely thought of. All that mattered was the next equation, the next theory, the next unsolvable question she'd unravel.

It was during this time that she'd fallen in love with Hojo or at least, that's what she thought it was. Hojo was the kind of scientist that made something as dull and predictable as genetic engineering sound exciting. He was charismatic...in his own way. Not traditionally handsome, he'd never traded on his looks to charm an audience. It was his personality that had captured her attention, as well as the attention of others. His theories, though sometimes flawed, had intrigued Lucrecia. He was by no means the most brilliant scientist she'd ever met, but he was the most interesting. And she had to admit, his hopes of creating a way to eliminate specific genetic abnormalities was fascinating. One night after one of his lectures they'd talked about it over a cup of coffee in the Shinra commissary.

It was perhaps the most stimulating conversation she'd had in her entire life. With the exception of one other, a conversation she'd had three months ago with a Turk who'd she'd met, oddly enough, in the same commissary during a lunch break. Vincent Valentine, the name was enough even now to bring a small smile to her face. He was very handsome and Lucrecia had been suitably impressed and at the same time terrified that he'd pay any attention to her. She'd never thought herself a great beauty and could only guess why someone like him would look twice at her. Besides the fact that he was a Turk and being an insider at Shinra, she knew what their purpose within the company was. Despite of her fear of him and what he did for a living, there was a definite attraction. And it was hardly one sided. Lucrecia knew little when it came to love and romance but she could feel herself being pulled to him. As if fate had decreed that he was the one.

Her knowledge of what he did worked against her, for as drawn to him as she was--he was a killer. A murderer for hire and morally she couldn't ignore that, Lucrecia was altruistic and in some ways naive about the way the world worked (at least the way in which Shinra worked). Beyond the basic fact that she falsely believed she and Vincent had so little in common. Hojo, in the end was the safe bet and in her eyes, the right choice. Besides, he was so sweet and gregarious. He made her laugh with his self-deprecating sense of humor. Hojo was an open man, willing to express himself, willing to show his feelings for her, with surprise gifts of candies and flowers. Romantic candle lit dinners. Things that Vincent could have provided but he thought frivolous. He preferred to show affection in simpler ways, asking about her day, getting her headache medication when she asked for it. Vincent was too reserved and rarely shared his feelings; it was like pulling teeth just to get him to talk. She'd tired of his cold attitude. No matter how close they got, he still seemed to hold her at arms length. He never said those three little words every woman longs to hear. Hojo did. Besides, he was a cold-blooded killer. Hojo worked to better lives, not snuff them. So she'd taken his proposal over Valentine's, deep in her heart of hearts regretting her decision even as she made it.

With marriage came a job offer. Hojo had invited her to become a part of a joint research team. She was flabbergasted when he'd offered it to her and accepted with little thought. The Jenova Project was broad in its scope and presented a real opportunity to advance her career, and though she was married now, she still thought only of her job. The same could be said of Hojo. For work was all either of them had ever had.

The work itself was challenging. Gast was a brilliant scientist in his own right, world-renowned and it was an honor and a privilege to work with him. They had set about cross breeding the only surviving biological specimen of a race once thought long gone. The ancients or Cetra as they called themselves, were a powerful race of people. For a long time they were regarded as nothing more than fairy stories, until one had been found deep in the earth ten years ago by Gast himself. It was said the ancients were extremely long-lived and nearly impervious to most illnesses that plagued human kind. More over, they were purported to be able to speak with the planet and use magic without the aid of materia.

Gast had studied the specimen for some time and had determined that former part of the legend was true. The statistics generated by his initial tests indicated that before death the creature was stronger, faster and smarter than any living human being. The later part of the legend proved also somewhat true. Though they had no idea if it could actually cast magic without materia, the elevated magic levels in the specimen, if they were to be believed, were astounding. Even more curious was the fact that as it thawed, it seemed to regenerate the parts of itself that were missing or damaged--after death. Gast had hoped to study it in more depth but he'd quickly run out of funding, being an independent scientist. He'd brought Hojo on board because of his connection with Shinra. Hojo had jumped at the chance to work with Gast, more for glory and to try and best his only rival than anything else.

Lucrecia had been put in charge of the lab, overseeing the other scientists and research assistants as they worked on various tests and experiments. Much to her delight, she'd been given an additional task by Gast. He wanted her to completely map the creature's DNA, because he wasn't entirely convinced of its origins. It was said that the Cetra were remarkably similar to human beings in appearance and biology. This specimen looked anything but human, and that fact gravely concerned him. When she'd told her husband of her good fortune, he was less than pleased. In fact, he was downright angry at her, accusing her of going behind his back in an attempt to further her own career which, of course, was completely ridiculous. It was a minor fracas, easily resolved but sadly a sign of things to come. He had admitted to being a jealous fool but he would not budge about one topic they disagreed on completely. Hojo had been trying to push forward the initial testing phase, preferring to jump straight into the bulk of the research and experimentation. Both Lucrecia and Gast had disagreed, being in many ways better scientists than Hojo; they believed that more data had to be run before any experiments began. They didn't know what the specimen really was. They could make educated guesses from where they found her and the basic information they'd already gathered, but that wasn't enough. They needed concrete proof, definite arrows that pointed to her origins. There were no Cetran relics found with her, save for a helmet of some kind with the word Jenova scrawled into it in ancient Cetran. This too pointed to her being a Cetra, but Gast still had doubts. For the helmet found with her looked more like a restraining device than any kind of jewelry or charm that was commonly buried with the Cetran deceased.

They wanted to secure another expedition to the northern crater, where it was found, hoping to find more evidence that would support their theories and make experimentation with its DNA less risky. When they'd approached Hojo with their doubts, his reaction, once again, was less than pleasant. He had acidly disagreed with them, citing the fact that they didn't have the time nor the money for additional research. Effectively disregarding their concern and shutting down any further discussion of the issue.

Gast wasn't happy in the least as he became aware that this project was less his now and more Shinra's. Hojo's exertion of control was effortless and final. His only choice was to go along or be released from his temporary contract with Shinra. Gast wouldn't quit, mostly because he wanted to see that the research was done properly -- or at least as properly as it could be done with an incompetent like Hojo in charge.

The situation for Lucrecia wasn't much better and in many ways, it was worse. Hojo had severely reprimanded her, commenting that his suspicion of her was correct. He believed that she was only trying to further her own career at the expense of his. In his opinion, she had no notion of her place in the scheme of things and by god, he'd teach her. She ran the lab, nothing more nothing less. As such, she had no say in how things were to be run, other than to keep the work in the lab on time. Calling her concerns nothing more than idle feminine prattling--"overemotional female nonsense". He then chided her like an errant child for being so easily duped into Gast's plans to take over the research. Hojo was insecure about his own intellect. Frightened that his wife would outshine him and took this opportunity to keep her in line. For in truth, he knew that both she and Gast were his superiors, not the other way around. No matter what Shinra's paperwork said.

Lucrecia wasn't a terribly strong or self-assured individual. Most professional women in her line of work wouldn't have taken his dressing down quietly. They would have fought him, smacked him down like a stray dog. Being afraid of conflict, she wordlessly agreed with Hojo. Facing her own form of silent torment. Feeling ashamed she'd backed down so easily and saddened by his harsh treatment of her. Once more, this argument was forgotten and for a time, things were better.

As the work increased, this one time occurrence became a daily routine. The man she knew and fell in love with disappeared and in his place was an irritable powder keg. The project was growing in size as Shinra saw an opportunity for profit. They began to demand marketable results. Not understanding that research takes time. Especially with the kind of research they were doing. Genetic manipulation was the unexplored country; the things they'd planned to do had never been done. If successful, the Jenova project could change the course of evolution. It could very well be the high or low water mark of their civilization. The results all depended on how much time they were given.

With Shinra rushing them, all the scientists involved were afraid it'd be an abject failure. Even Hojo was worried. There were many snags and delays that had made the company execs furious. They'd sent down a couple of Turks to watch over the research, because Shinra believed them to be stalling.

What made things worse was that Lucrecia had discovered something that threatened to derail their work entirely. At the time, she was too afraid to say anything to her husband. He was always short with her. Small things setting him off on a vicious tirade, his verbal assaults were enough to reduce her to tears most times. Rather than try to argue, she shrunk into her work as if it were a protective shell.

She rarely saw her husband, concentrating on her work totally. As time went by, even this didn't dull her despair. What became clearer each day was that Jenova wasn't what they thought she was. She had agonized about what she should tell Hojo, even briefly thinking about telling Gast... nixing that option right away. Gast had increasing doubts about the specimen's veracity but Lucrecia remembered very well the last time she'd consulted him and didn't want to tempt fate or her husband's quick temper.

She'd endured a tortured week of this, until she finally worked up the courage to speak with her husband. Finally she was ready to tell him what she knew about Jenova -- it wasn't a Cetra at all. Despite its slightly humanoid appearance, the specimen known as Jenova was a virus. It masqueraded as a vaguely humanoid creature but its only purpose was to infect. All the specimen they'd injected, all the experiments they'd performed were worse than useless -- they were walking biohazards. Lucrecia was terrified, wondering what Jenova's contagion might do to all the specimen they'd experimented on so far. They'd introduced a potentially lethal virus to a populace who didn't have any immunity to it as the ancients might have. The horrifying reality of an outbreak situation loomed above her and as fearful as she was of her husband, she feared that more. Thousands could die for their curiosity.

With trepidation she told her husband everything she knew. Her voice became thinner and her resolve began to disappear with every word as she gazed into his face. He looked sickly; his skin was paler than usual, hanging off his already gaunt frame. His eyes were glazed over and obvious dark circles hung underneath them. She couldn't remember the last time they'd gone to bed at the same time.

While she spoke, he said nothing, which was unusual for Hojo, who'd always been an animated, talkative man. A man who was eager to make his point of view heard, often interrupting people mid-sentence rather than letting his thoughts wait. This quality had always secretly irritated her and she'd wished more than once for him to shut up. It was ironic how much she wished that he'd say something now. The man who sat so silently in his plush chair was a stranger. He gazed at her expressionlessly, his eyes seeing through her and not at her -- there was nothing behind those eyes, like Hojo was an empty shell and something dead and rotten now tugged at his reigns. Yasuo Hojo was gone and in its place was this _thing_, this withered shadow that glared at her with contempt. This thought unnerved her greatly and she felt a tide of nervous tension ripple over her. Rambling on for a few minutes longer, she tapered off, her voice a dull whisper. He waited for an eternity, glaring at her with the darkly blank eyes of a predator--obsidian beads that were dead and vacant.

_Like the eyes of a shark_, she thought as she stared into space aimlessly.

Hojo stood, his manner controlled and oddly fluid for someone as gangly as he was. Lucrecia unconsciously shrunk back into her chair, her body reacting on instinct to perceived threat as he circled her. Her gaze followed his movement; her jade eyes were wide and frightened at the feral look that crossed his features.

"Yasuo?"

"You stupid cow," he hissed, before backhanding her.

The blow was so sudden she didn't even have time to scream. So forceful, it had sent her flying off her chair, knocking into a small counter at the back of his office. With a cry she shielded her face as she hit the counter. Her right arm flung out to brace against the fall, shattering the glass jars and containers that lined it. The jagged pieces of glass cut through her lab coat, smaller pieces embedding themselves in her flesh. She stumbled to her feet, staring wildly at her husband while clutching her bleeding arm.

He began ranting at her, his words slipping between Midgar Standard and Wutanese so fast that she had trouble understanding him. What she could catch was nothing short of insane. He noticed her confusion, which seemed to anger him even more. His voice rising in volume as he continued on with his disjointed diatribe and all the while his face turned a livid red as his fury reached a fevered pitch.

The world spun and Lucrecia was aware that she was on the verge of fainting. His words had become lost to the buzzing in her head and she felt as the world teetered between gray and white. What little sense she could catch in his speech muffled by the background noise in her skull. There was only one central message she could interpret behind his rant. He had told her that Jenova most certainly WAS an ancient and that she and Gast were just jealous; filthy, jealous traitors who were holding him back, trying to build their careers while bogging his down. And then he began screaming that this project would go forward whether or not she liked it, before lunging for her, his face a mask of twisted fury. She then received the first beating of her life and by far the worst.

Barely able to remember the blows, Lucrecia was only conscious of the fact that her husband was much stronger than he looked, almost supernaturally stronger. He had changed and she wondered dimly as his fist connected with her jaw if it was because he'd altered himself. As she lost consciousness she was aware he'd called one of the Turks who guarded the place. Vincent's shadowed form had hovered above her as she heard through the thick foam walls of her mind her husband's voice.

"Take care of _that_..."

A single tear slid down her cheek before she passed out. Her husband was no longer the man she loved, knowing this she was still unwilling to leave. A part of her was too stubborn to believe that her Hojo, the one she'd fallen in love with, was truly gone. She had to believe there was some part of him left -- a part she could save -- optimistically hoping to salvage a marriage that was beyond saving.

Though she'd never admit it, her fear of Hojo outweighed any feelings of love or affection for the man. After her "accident", she tried to avoid her husband as much as possible. She tried her best to go back to work, pretending as if nothing unusual had happened. Word in a small town spreads fast and it wasn't long before the occasional acquaintance or perfect stranger began to query why she'd stay with Hojo after what he'd done. She had nothing to give but fumbling excuses. The pressure soon became too much and she'd requested a leave of absence. A leave her husband had all too quickly approved. She still stayed in Nibelheim; he wouldn't go so far as to let her out of his sight.

The only saving grace during this dark period was Vincent, who stayed by her side despite her rather blind loyalty to her husband. He, like the others, didn't think she ought to stay with Hojo. Unlike everyone else, Vincent had never voiced his opinion but she could see it hiding behind his eyes. Those dark eyes so haunted with thousands of reprehensible deeds. Things he could never escape, never explain, and never feel. The eyes of a ruthless killer, who had no trouble murdering any target -- man, woman or child -- yet looked at her so disapprovingly. Lucrecia wondered if there was such a thing as honor amongst thieves. Was spousal abuse that frowned upon amongst Shinra's hired thugs? She had noticed the look of disdain, almost contempt, on Vincent's face every time he had to deal with Hojo. The way his eyes would narrow slightly and his body tensed, as if he was trying very hard not to throttle him.

During her long recovery period he hadn't left her. He'd sat by her bedside and held her hand. Looking down at her with those tortured eyes of his with such devotion and repressed feeling that Lucrecia felt as if her heart might burst. No one had ever looked at her like that. Was she even worth such emotion? Whether or not she was, he had given it to her. When she'd turned him down, he had accepted it with quiet dignity. Turks were known for their cold resolve. It didn't behoove them to let their emotions rule their minds. Not to say that he lacked emotion, only that he had control over them. He loved Lucrecia and she'd chosen another. It hurt but he wouldn't allow that to cloud him. He'd let her go, though there was always a part of him that would pine for her.

He hadn't trusted Hojo in the least. Vincent knew Hojo to be an ambitious man who had no qualms about standing on the heads of others for his own glory. He'd seen the scientist's ruthlessness in advancing his career for himself. Hojo and President Shinra were peas in a pod. There were more than a few missions that he'd been forced to undertake on their behalf. Most of the missions were clean up jobs and evidence elimination. All of them were very nasty. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that Lucrecia couldn't see Hojo for what he was. But who was he to run her life? He couldn't force the woman to love him. All the same, he kept an eye on her. Using his position as the head of security to make sure she was all right. He'd practically had to move a mountain, but he'd managed to secure a transfer to Nibelheim so he could keep a better watch on her. Something about Hojo's current pet project had scared him and he'd know sooner or later the Turks would be called in once more to clean up the aftermath. He might as well be there before hand, so at least Lucrecia might escape unscathed.

The transfer had taken an ungodly amount of time. Shinra was reluctant to let their best Turk out of their sight, only to languish in Nibelheim with nothing more useful to do than look after scientists. He'd convinced them it was necessary, playing on their fears of Gast, the only scientist in the group who wasn't strongly affiliated with Shinra. He'd worked with them in the past, developing the materia refining process. But he hadn't given them tacit control over his designs, managing to secure a contract that allowed him to share his knowledge with Shinra's competitors. This time they'd taken precautions so that he wouldn't be able to do the same thing, though there was still unspoken fear that somehow Gast would find a way. It was widely regarded that the man was a genius. Eventually, Shinra saw it Vincent's way and he was transferred, silently thanking the gods as he picked Lucrecia's battered body off the floor.

For Lucrecia his coming was nothing short of a miracle. All the things they'd talked about, the things he'd warned her of. All of it was true. He had been right, so damn right. She'd fallen gratefully into his arms and the moment they wrapped around her she knew she'd been wrong about him. A thousand words, a thousand instances, a thousand things he'd shown her in that short interlude. They had more in common than she'd ever imagined. It had all started with a bedside conversation about her favorite book.

_The Tzadikim-Nistarim_, a book of ancient Cetra mysteries and ritual healing spells. She'd made a comment in passing referring to the text and he'd picked up her reference because he'd also read it. The Tzadikim-Nistarim was an obscure tome and despite being translated, badly she might add, it was rarely read owing to the complex and confusing nature of the text, so finding someone, besides Gast, who'd read the work was astounding to her. Even more astounding was that he disliked the translation almost more than she did. She was shocked to know that Vincent spoke more than twelve languages -- one of which was officially considered dead. She knew quite a few as well, including a more modern version of the Cetran speech, which helped when trying to translate the more ancient texts. Her husband didn't think of a Turk as a rival as he had Gast and he saw no problem in the time she'd spent with Vincent. Either that or he just didn't care who she was with as long as it wasn't Gast. Hell, he probably thought all the time the Turk was spending with her was in an effort to spy on her for Shinra. He was _that_ paranoid.

They'd endlessly discuss the individual spells and prophecies, as if trying to unravel the mysteries of the ancients. Lucrecia was delighted to find someone like Vincent, who was more open to the mystical side of life. She was a scientist and the ambiguous nature of Cetran mysticism shouldn't have interested her as much as it did. But it was _because_ she couldn't understand it that it fascinated her so. Anyway, she'd always enjoyed a good mystery and with her leave of absence, she was often left with nothing to do. Their in depth discussion of the book and its meanings was a pleasant diversion. So every afternoon, long after her husband left, Vincent would come to their lone little apartment in the Shinra mansion. And together, they'd read the book and fumble with the arduous task of re-translating and interpreting it.

The part of the book that had intrigued both scientist and Turk was the Sepher Yetzirah. It was a book within a book, dealing with the very core of Cetran belief, though dealing mainly in prophecy. They viewed the planet as a tree of life, naming it Yggdrasil. It was said that one-day two children would be born, Din and Hesed, and they would carry out the will of Yggdrasil. They would each be halves of the tree of life and through them the world would either be destroyed or saved. Each would be helped or hindered on their way by the other branches of the tree and the outcome would be dependant on whether the halves became united or remained divided. More interesting than that, it continually referenced something called the Crisis From the Skies. She had overheard Gast mumbling something about it once in reference to Jenova, and she couldn't help but wonder if they were connected.

In Cetran myth, the Crisis had nearly destroyed the world. Its strength was so great that it took every last bit of power the ancients had to seal it. This last act was what had led to the Cetra's decline and eventual extinction. They had died to protect the planet from the Crisis. Gast had said... he'd said that the Crisis _was_ Jenova. If this was true, they'd unwittingly unleashed the Cetra's greatest enemy -- one that had destroyed them utterly. It drove her to read further, to know more, because even though the ancients were dead and gone, they'd left a fraction of their wisdom behind. And if Jenova and the Crisis were one and the same, they'd have to find a way to destroy it before it destroyed them like it had the Cetra.

One passage in particular had given them trouble. More than anything Lucrecia longed to know exactly what it was the ancients were trying to tell them. They spoke of a Crisis from the Sky and of the planet's suffering, and most worrisome, how these things foreshadowed the end of times (as they called it) and the events that would lead to some kind of apocalypse. Or planetary rebirth... once again she was stymied by the Cetra's lack of clarity. The language was difficult to translate, each word having many meanings. And it seemed as if it was in the Cetran character to be ambiguous. Though there was an underlying thread of truth within the tome, and Lucrecia put all she had into finding it, studying the one verse that gave her the most trouble, with Vincent at her side.

It dealt with something called the watchtowers and the two children of legend.

_In the boundless realms, without origin or end, the unabated abyss awaits; they that were once neither good nor evil, who devoured without cessation and were one of many waiting for the time of their release. The one of many have numbers beyond knowing and will engulf all creation and drag it into the void. _

_Din, the ineffable, and Hesed, the beloved, shall be all that stands between this great Crisis and the end of times. _

_The Word of God is within Din and it shall burst forth, erupting in righteous flame._

_The Voice of God is within Hesed and it shall sing from the foundation of earth, sinking beneath into Gaia's holy waters. _

_Ten cycles shall pass as the Crisis burns the planet. Ten cycles and Din and Hesed shall be born, and together they shall light the watchtowers or plunge creation into eternal darkness. _

The more she looked into it, the more this verse disturbed her. She hadn't shared her revelations with Vincent right away; it felt too much like she was betraying the project and Hojo. No matter how much she detested her husband or how worried she was about the Jenova Project, she did not feel it was in her right to bring her doubts to light. But as the days passed, she couldn't keep it to herself any longer. She told her everything, and waited in pensive silence while he thought. After a moment, he looked at her. "I believe you," he said. From there, they delved into further research -- to confirm what they both feared, that Jenova and the Crisis were one and the same.

The research had the additional benefit of keeping Vincent and Lucrecia from succumbing to their feelings or at least, that's what it had started out as. Foolish as they were, this research only drew them closer. She remembered the first time they'd kissed, when they'd finally had a breakthrough with one of the tables. Lucrecia had worked the math until she'd solved it and when she'd happily told Vincent that the date for the birth of the fated children was within the next few years, it had happened. They had smiled and hugged, and when they pulled away....J oy faded into desire and their lips met, moving with the vast ocean of eternity that had fated their love to be star-crossed.

He was truly her soul mate, she believed that to this day. Their affair was beyond carnal desire. It was passion that was in harmony with body, mind and soul, and given fate's blessing it could have been more than it was. A fleeting moment of happiness in an otherwise tainted canvas of black despair.

Six months, that was how long she'd kept her love secret, six blissful months, where all she knew was Vincent's love and the never-ending beating of her heart. She'd even thought of leaving her husband... thought but never awoke enough courage to actually do it, not yet anyway. Lucrecia had been thanking her lucky stars. Her husband hadn't found out, things were going so well. She was happier than she'd ever been in her life.

Then one month, she'd missed her period and she had never been late. Never. Terrified beyond all rational thought, she hid this fact from all she knew. Vincent had claimed to not be afraid of her husband, but Lucrecia knew better. The man was unstable and despite this, Shinra trusted him and would obey any command given by him. After all, he and the President were practically golf buddies.

She'd gone to the local general practitioner, rather than Shinra's highly qualified medical doctors. There was no way for her to trust that anyone at Shinra could keep a secret; turning to a neutral third party was her only choice, and she felt assured that if what she feared was true, it'd never come to light. She hadn't even trusted Vincent with this knowledge. Whether she feared he'd tell Hojo and force a confrontation or if he'd ask her to do the unspeakable, she'd never know. For once again she mistrusted the only person who was worth her trust in all of this. Had he known, he'd have suggested a more discreet way of finding out if she were with child. Hell, his reputation as a Turk was enough to frighten any Shinra employee into instant silence. But Hojo would find out, he'd know... because somehow he always did. It was that line of thought that started all her troubles.

The test had been simple and painless. Piss in a cup and instant results. Well, almost instant. The doctor in Nibelheim was a kindly old man, having practiced there for many, many years. He had delivered most of the town's children, and he harkened back to the days when a doctor wasn't just another scientist -- all clinical and impersonal. He was your friend; he cared about his patients and their health. As such, he was disdainful of more modern procedures and attitudes. His clinic was out of date, firmly relegated to the stone age of medicine. He wasn't a rich man; he didn't have the room or money for the more expensive lab equipment of a modern clinic. So he'd had to send her sample out for testing.

When the test had come back, he'd called the young woman's home. Not having any clue that she'd wanted to keep things secret. She'd not been particularly talkative when they'd met. The woman wasn't home but he'd left a message with her husband, and was surprised that the man didn't seem happy with the good news. The doctor thought to ask about this but the woman's husband hung up before he could. Shrugging his shoulders, he went about his business. The folks at Shinra were a strange lot.

When Lucrecia had come home that day, her husband had been waiting for her. It was then that her nine-month nightmare began. Carelessly, Hojo had tossed a small stuffed teddy bear at her with a big bow on it that said: "You have an angel on the way! Congratulations!"

Her eyes widened, and fear seeped into her countenance. _He knew_...

"Good news, Lucrecia., my dear, _dear_ wife. You're pregnant."

_He knew. Gods above he knew_. Panic filled her senses. All she could do was wonder how. She said nothing, biting her lip in dreaded anticipation of whatever torture he had in store for her.

"I wonder, how it _is_ you came by this condition? We haven't shared the same bed in months." He paused for a moment before smirking, his speech languidly piercing in its intent. "Perhaps it's a _divine_ conception," at this he drew out the word divine with a derisive sneer.

Hojo's eyes went cold as he approached her. He didn't hit her, didn't flinch in his reserved facade. He didn't even try to appear menacing. He didn't have to. The iciness of his tone was enough to chill her blood and when he touched her still flat stomach, she shook visibly. He leaned into her, his breath tickling the nape of her neck. Closing her eyes, all she thought was about the baby growing within her and the fate of her lover. There was no fear for herself. She was a worthless, a pathetic wretch of a woman. If there were one thing she could do, it would be to try her best to protect them. She might deserve judgment, but they didn't.

"You traitorous whore, I know about you and I know about your lover. If you know what's good for him and your baby, you'll do exactly as I say."

"Please, please don't hurt him.... don't hurt my baby," she whimpered, unknowingly giving him the keys to controlling her.

"Oh, Don't worry, my dear. I won't hurt them," he said, his smooth, almost toneless voice was completely devoid of humanity. As he spoke his voice quieted until it was barely audible. "You know, there _are_ _worse_ things than death, Lucrecia."

He left her with this uncomforting thought, allowing her imagination to play out what exactly he meant by that. Whatever had irrevocably changed her husband had left him unbalanced, and as the days passed she lived in continual fear of finding out what that statement implied. By the time she was six months pregnant she knew without a doubt that Hojo's sanity had teetered over onto the wrong side of crazy. Perhaps it was her affair that had driven him to it or maybe it was something more sinister. Maybe it had something to do with the Jenova project. She didn't know and for a time she sought fruitlessly for an illusive puzzle piece that gave a reason for the gathering madness that stirred within him. There was nothing and so she left such thoughts up to the Gods; one more rambling daydream that meant nothing; full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

She didn't care about her job, Jenova, or Hojo, none of that mattered anymore. Even Vincent, she'd broken it off with him, per Hojo's orders. Still, he stayed by her side and her heart died a little each day seeing him and not being able to reach out to him. To scream to the world from the rooftops that he was the one she loved. That the child growing in her womb was his, not Hojo's but without her denial, both would be dead. So she lied. Everyday she lied to herself, to her husband and to Vincent. But her stupid, stubborn heart didn't matter anymore.

One thought slowly took over everything else. One thought that was her only beacon of hope. It was strange that something so small could change everything for her. At one time all she'd had was her job, her work. Touching her pregnant belly, Lucrecia smiled. As long as her child was all right, that was all that mattered. Her nightly mantra complete, she looked out into the night sky.

The ultrasound they'd taken the week before had come back that morning. It had been hard to tell in weeks earlier, but today it was confirmed. It was a boy. She and Vincent, they'd have a son. _Our son_. Lucrecia smiled, closing her eyes and breathing in the crisp air deeply. In honor of Vincent and the time they'd spent together she'd decided on his name already. She'd call him Sephiroth, after the mystical arms of the tree of life. Because her son would change her world, just like the mythical children in the prophecy. Lucrecia prayed at that moment, for her son's health and for his future. That it be bright and full of promise. Sincerely, she looked forward to seeing him growing up. What would he become? Maybe a scientist or an artist, like Lucrecia's father had been but no matter which it was, she hoped that he'd be happy most of all. His life filled with more joy than sorrow, somehow defying her dark fate.

Opening her eyes, she gazed up in wonder at the heavens, pregnant with a thousand blinking stars. _Amazing_, she thought. And from the clear midnight sky one pure and impossibly fragile snowflake fell. Like a shooting star... or a fallen angel. She reached out her hand and watched as it landed in her palm. The crystalline form began to melt immediately and Lucrecia slowly closed her hand over it as if to deny inevitability. The unspoken fear of her heart welled within her again. She was terrified that her son's future would melt like that snowflake, consumed by the darkness that gathered ever around her. In the impossibly dark stillness, she choked back a wave of tears as she heard the lock on her door click and the sound of it slowly creaking as it opened, light from the hallway pooling into her darkened room, and the shadow of Shinra guards reaching out for her, sealing her fate.

Her fears came to fruition that very night, as she reached that same hand out, stained with her own blood. She blindly grasped the air, as if she could claw through it to reach her son. The baby wailed in fright as an armed guard took him from the lab, holding him roughly and without love. Tears of frustration fell and Lucrecia cursed Hojo. Her son... That man she'd called husband had untimely _ripped_ him from her womb. She called to Hojo and she'd tearfully begged him to let her see Sephiroth. Her choked sobs fell on deaf ears and she was left to bleed to death on the cold operating table in his lab. Bereft of hope for herself and her son, her hand fell as if in slow motion, limply dangling over the edge of her deathbed. And the words he'd said to her so many months ago resounded constantly in her mind. _There are worse things than death_... The full horror of that statement had never been clearer. Hojo had punished her for her affair but he wasn't content to let her suffer alone. No, that would be too easy. He punished her lover and her son, turning them into monsters while she could do nothing but sit by and watch and weep.

As she'd recounted this, she was pained by the memory and the odd look of disconsolate hurt on her son's face. Perhaps she should have started with something more familiar to him but she'd always felt it was best to start at the beginning. She was worried how he'd take it and had watched his face carefully. Like his father, the true measure of his feelings lay mostly hidden. What little flickered to the surface were vague impressions of emotions: Fear, anguish, rage, and, finally, despair. All welded seamlessly together into a single expression that raced through his eyes in a matter of seconds.

During the telling, she had to stop multiple times because she had continually broken down in tears. Sephiroth wasn't much help. His upbringing, courtesy of Hojo, had made him wary of such displays of emotion and unable to deal with them. He hadn't cried since the age of five. A detail Lucrecia had pointed out, amongst many others. She knew him to be doubtful of her identity. So she told him everything. Told him things he barely remembered, things he knew, things he fought hard to forget, and things he'd told no one else about.

In almost one rapid-fire breath she recounted every moment she could remember. For despite being dead, she'd always been by his side, watching him. Sometimes with pride, sometimes with sorrow but she was always there. And she reminded him -- reminded him of the time when the storm tangled up the wires when he was five and the power went out. He'd tried to escape, it was the first time, and Hojo had caught him. Beat him so badly afterwards that he was bedridden for a week. But it had been worth it; he remembered that, because he'd gotten his first look at the world outside that night. It was then he'd promised himself never to cry again, as he lay in his hospital bed. His body one small walking bruise and as he vowed, his soul became as his body was. Only, this bruise never healed.

Or the time in the train depot when he was fourteen, when he sat down on the bench and found it warm. How he wondered who had been sitting there before him. Watching the crisp autumn leaves as they skittered across the train platform. The well of joy he'd felt at that moment, because he was free from Hojo. He'd become a solider, the best ever and Hojo would never be able to lay a hand on him again. No one would.

The most convincing bit of memory she recalled was a night he'd nearly forgotten in Wutai. He was eighteen and he'd been out wandering late at night when he shouldn't have. What did he care anyway? No one could touch him now. And as he walked down the starlit path, a fox appeared out of the bushes. Its reddish brown fur was dulled by the dark blue of night. The animal had looked up at the general with wide and shining eyes. Eyes as black as night, as black as coal, and before he could let out a breath, it disappeared back into the underbrush. This memory not even Jenova herself was aware of he'd hidden it so well.

These things, he'd never told anyone. He'd held them in his heart and locked them away. What use was happiness to someone like him? It had been obliterated because he didn't want to remember. To remember would mean he'd have to feel the happiness of those memories and happiness was painful for all the emptiness it offered. Yet the woman knew these memories. And when he looked at her this time there was acceptance. For a moment, his mother merely stared at him, too stunned to react and when she regained enough sense to respond, it was with a flood of tears.

Sephiroth's eyes went wide, clearly perplexed by her reaction. It was entirely illogical to him for her to react in this way. Wasn't his acceptance of her place in his life what she wanted? He looked over at Ifalna helplessly. The Cetra smiled and shook her head gently, suppressing an amused laugh. She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling, and motioned that he should hold her, mouthing the words -- _Hold her _-- when he didn't immediately obey. Still, all he did was stare at her, eyebrows knit in a look of pure befuddlement and a tinge of fear. Frustrated, Ifalna once again guided his hand so that it rested on Lucrecia's back and motioned for him to move the other; effectively teaching him how to be more human. He shook his head in denial. This show of affection was beyond him and he mouthed at her: "Why?"

In a hushed whisper, she answered: "It'll come in useful someday very, very soon..."

His face went dark but it quickly passed as he obeyed. Holding the shaking woman in his arms and feeling stupid and awkward, he gazed pensively out into space. This whole business made him uncomfortable and he really wondered what the point of it was. He held his peace and his tongue, as it had only gotten him into trouble with the Cetra. She would tell him what she wanted when she was ready and Sephiroth was content to wait, not wanting to risk a repeat of her earlier punishment. He'd always learned fast.

He heard the Cetra shift next to him and he looked over at her, annoyed at the way she looked at him, like she could see right into him. Why was she staring at him like that? With a look that held such mystery, perhaps the knowledge of what heaven wanted with him. They wanted something from him and either they didn't know how to ask or it wasn't time yet. It silently irked him and he glared at the Cetra, hoping to put her off at least for the moment. Bad enough that he was forced to endure such loathsome human contact, even if it was his mother. His awkwardness at this was embarrassing enough and having someone watch him, with obvious humor, was nearly unbearable. He was about to say something, to snap at her again but before his mouth even opened, she'd cut him off with a look. Smiling serenely, her words reached him though she didn't move her lips.

_Though you know nothing, your journey has just begun_...


	6. Two of Us

_No one in this world ever gets what they want and that is beautiful_

_Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful_

_--They Might Be Giants_

In the blinding blur of petals and light two souls had lost themselves. Both straying out of time and mind, lost to the oblivion of pure emotion without the natural inhibitions that had held them back in life. They were blissfully unaware of anything beyond their own formless spirits. From the self same nothingness came opalescent energy as the lifestream began to reform their bodies from the tagged remembrances of the planet. To the souls they bound, this meant nothing, ignoring the returning life in favor of the sweet succor of the newly found wholeness they'd gained in their short time here. Neither wanted to separate and it was with great difficulty that the lifestream drew the intertwined souls apart, funneling them back into their bodies.

For the one who was once called Aeris, she was barely aware of her slowly waking body. Her mind focused only on keeping her within the unfathomable abyss between life and death, where she felt complete and at peace. She waved off the cold reality that beat behind the walls of her consciousness but it came for her all the same, sending waves of memory, as if to awaken some sleeping part of her. But she wanted to remain in this pleasant slumber, recumbent in the ether. Soul surrounded by her... guardian...yes, that is what this other soul was. The life that was returning to her did not matter. It was nothing, only a corporeal shell, a prison of flesh and bone. A mortal body was something so childish, so naive and wanting. It was a ridiculous parody of her wandering spirit, devoid of the oneness that pervaded her in this perfect existence. Life as it was meant to be. In the world of the living, she'd be alone again -- for truly, we are alone within ourselves.

This is what she ran from.

For once in her life she felt as if she belonged somewhere. The only nagging thought was that she'd be pulled from this. Yet somehow, she wasn't concerned overmuch, trusting that somehow this feeling would never end.

All her life she'd been set apart, made to feel different because of what she was. Even amongst her friends. They trusted her but she knew that they rarely understood her. In truth, even if she were to have explained herself fully, they'd never be able to comprehend. Their minds were too small and disconnected to understand the power from which she drew her strength. Even the one she'd loved most of all, his experiences in life did not prepare him to fathom the isolation, the loneliness of her existence. She was the last of her kind. Perhaps Nanaki would have understood; though he did not know it yet, he was hardly the last of _his_ kind. How could she explain to them what it meant to be Cetra? The unique mysteries, the power, the voice of the planet and her ancestors; words were useless and could not explain how she felt and, really, how could she explain, when she barely knew herself?

At last, she felt as if there was at last someone who'd appreciate those rattling feelings of separation, of otherness. This assigned guardian, the one whose soul was interwoven with her own -- she could feel the same confusion and awkwardness that she'd always felt. Both of them had never known where they belonged, until this moment. Intrinsically, she knew, as did he, that it didn't matter where they were, not anymore. As long as they were together, all was right with the world. There was the low desire to stay as close as they were now but neither could help the inevitable separation of their spirits.

It pained Aeris but she enjoyed the time she had left. Always there was the delightful ambiguity of his emotions -- like the shifting rainbow after a storm; they drifted gently through the scattered mist. It was so hard to pin him down and she diverted her thoughts to chasing after him; it was a pleasant game that kept her amused and relaxed, knowing that this dreamtime would soon end. She wondered briefly if he enjoyed it as much as she did.

Her senses dawned and the soft comfort of the lifestream abated, pulling her from the ether and into the world. All the while, her mind tried to remain behind, dragging her metaphorical feet and holding onto the door in a desperate effort to stop the unavoidable. Aeris now hovered firmly between her dreams and consciousness, the cold hard reality of the world pushing at the supple fabric of her imaginings.

Gradually, the muted sounds of the world reached the dream she was wrapped in and reluctantly, her mind began to wake. She took her time, wanting to savor every sensation she felt. Because as her awareness of the world came, so did she acknowledge that she might never feel this at peace again. She'd had lovely dreams like this before. A tiny smile appeared on her lips, as she let herself fall into one of her favorite daydreams of waking up in the arms of the one she loved.

Shivering with pleasure, she curled into the embrace, resting her head on his chest. If she concentrated she could hear the soft thudding of his heart. The slow, rhythmic beat was like music and she was entranced by the subtle reality of it. Was it a dream? She wasn't so sure. Dreams ended and they never felt so... tangible.

Her smile widened, perhaps her dreams really had come true. She snuggled closer, wanting to immerse herself further into the warm feeling that ran through her body like wildfire. Aeris breathed in deeply, letting out a contented sigh. Yes, this couldn't be a dream. She could hear his heart, feel the warmth of his body, and smell the clean, pure masculine scent of him. If she could touch him, then there'd be no denying the truth. And with a secret smile, she reached her hand up, fingers trailing over his chest, enjoying the luxurious feel of his body underneath his clothes. She was searching for his face; she wanted to touch it -- to trace the curves she'd memorized for three long years. This couldn't be a dream. She couldn't bear it if it was.

For so many years she'd dreamed of sun kissed hair and blue eyes, and she prayed that if she were to wake now, she'd be gazing into that face but the image of the one she loved shifted and it became difficult for her to properly envision his face. It had once been so easy and now there was desperation in her to confirm that her hopes had translated into reality. Deep inside, she knew the truth. It wasn't Cloud that held her, but she denied it mercilessly, allowing herself to believe whatever lie her heart told her.

Her hand moved upwards, and she reached out blindly as she neared his neck. Her fingers stretched out, catching on something soft that tangled around them. Curious, she twined it around her finger; it felt like strands of long silken thread. She smoothed it with her fingertips, enjoying the texture and yet she couldn't help but be perplexed. Hair... was hair, and long hair at that. Aeris made a small, annoyed grunt at being presented with such riddles upon first waking. _Cloud's hair wasn't this long_...

Scrunching up her face, she forced her eyes open and blinking lazily, she focused on her hand. She was still twirling the silken strands through her fingers. _Silver_... Aeris scowled, she was too tired for nonsense like this. The hair was silver in color... _silver_... She concentrated, why did that seem so familiar? Who did she know with long, silver...

Her mind turned and as it turned, all too slowly, things fell into place.

A lump formed in the back into her throat as visions of her death filled her eyes. Any comfort she'd felt drained from her and she froze in place, unable to think of what to do. Escape was all she thought of but how to do it? He was still deeply asleep. She could tell by the slow way his chest moved up and down, each long breath running smoothly into the next. Carefully, she extracted herself from his grasp, holding her breath the entire time. Just barely, she beat back the urge to cry; terrified that it would be enough to wake him.

"Please, let it not be him," she whispered, repeating the words over and over again like a protective prayer.

In an eerie mirror of her previous thoughts, Aeris had a morbid desire to see his face. His gray cloak still covered his face; long strands of his hair had escaped it, slipping out into plain view. Taking a long, calming breath, she forced herself to stop trembling, clenching and unclenching her fists to work out the tension she felt racing through her body. She reached out her hand, moving closer to that which she feared most. As she closed the gap between them, she held her breath unconsciously. Watching as her hand grasped a piece of the gray fabric, holding it between thumb and forefinger as if was something disgusting or unpleasant to the touch. With deliberate slowness, she pulled it back, swallowing hard as time ticked by.

The hood dropped and she swallowed hard as a tousled mass of silver hair was revealed. If she had it in her, she'd laugh at the terrible disarray; his hair pooled messily behind him, stray strands sticking out at odd angles -- looking very much like dappled moonlight on the rippling surface of a lake, beautiful yet fragmented. _He had bed head_. She stifled a nervous laugh at the thought, oddly amused that even _he_ was subject to the petty annoyances that plagued everyone else.

Long tendrils of silver draped over his pallid face, his lips and nose poking out from beneath the tangled locks. She inhaled shakily, her face contorted in fearful pain. Gods above, she didn't want to do this. The more logical side of her brain told her that this was enough but damn her persistent curiosity. For reasons known only to a buried part of her psyche, she had to see his face, wanted to, almost as much as she had wanted to see Cloud's. Though the identity of the person who lay nearby wasn't nearly as comforting as the thought of her former bodyguard, all the same, something in her needed to confirm what she already knew to be true. Finding some hidden reserve of calm, she carefully pushed aside his long bangs to reveal his face. She let out a low moan as she stared at the visage of terror in human form. It _was_ him. God damn it all, it was him.

Her hand lingered above his temple as she thought, too paralyzed by her own fearful pondering to move. She bit her lip as she choked back a cry. The tears were so close now. _Why him? Gods_... _Why?_ Looking around helplessly, she noticed for the first time where she was: The altar in Ajit, the Forgotten City.

Shaking her head, Aeris fought the oncoming hysteria. Her mind was in panic-stricken denial. This couldn't be real, it was just too cruel that it had to be a nightmare. She drew her hand back, face a complete blank as her gaze shifted to the floor. One of his hands lay near her lap, the sleeve of his tunic had pulled back and wrapped around his wrist was a string of prayer beads. Her eyes moved from the floor to this little detail, and confusion flickered on her features. The beads he wore aound his wrist were made of ruby red jade; tiny ornamental angel dangled from the large connecting bead. She reached out a hand to touch the angel as it rested on the pulse point of his wrist, her tiny wings outstretched over his pale skin.

Her mother's words rushed back to her and her eyes widened in horror: _Those beads are a test of faith. He who brings them to you is your intended_.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head in abject denial as tears spilled down her cheeks in large, unrelenting rivulets. "No-No-No-No-No!"

But she couldn't deny reality, no matter how hard she tried. This man was her guardian. Moreover, she had unknowingly accepted this bond. Those feelings from their time in the lifestream had lingered and it sickened her to remember them. To know that she'd felt comforted by that _thing_ -- they'd been so close and she had actually believed he could understand her. That she'd actually enjoyed being in his arms, she'd felt safe... No, she had been dreaming of Cloud, had thought she was in his arms but as much as she'd tried to convince herself it was her former bodyguard, there had been the nagging doubt that it was not and a part of her hadn't minded.

She realized that her hand still lay on his wrist and she snatched it away. Away, she had to get away. Aeris panicked and did the only thing her reeling mind could think to do. On pure instinct she propelled herself backwards with such force that she slammed into the wall behind her with a hard thump. The pain in her back didn't register; the ache of her heart was such that all else was trivial in comparison.

Why would they do this? Set the both of them here, in this place and laid them on the very same altar where she'd willingly given up her life. They let her embrace her murderer! It was a blasphemy of her sacrifice and all she'd given up. How could they?!! Now she understood why her mother had been so vague. Why her guardian's face had remained covered. Because if she'd known who it was, she'd have refused outright but they needed her so they obfuscated the truth. Never in her life had she been so angry or so miserable.

In the cavernous cathedral, she let out a low wail. It started quietly, barely audible unless you were close, but gradually it increased in volume. The sound was eerie, echoing in the vacant city like the whistling of a teakettle. Her voice hitched and she sucked air, upon releasing the breath, her wail had become a furious scream. She titled her head back, letting the scream peter out as her tears rushed down her cheeks. It was as if a damn had burst and the sounds of her tormented sobs reverberated through the city... into the very heart of the planet.

Unbeknownst to her, sudden torrential downpours popped up all over the world. From the tiny hamlets in Wutai that welcomed the rain as it nourished their rice fields. To ever sunny Costa del Sol, where it was generally regarded as a nuisance. Even the ruins of Midgar were drenched, though only the rats and the monsters that fed on them were left behind to notice. The storms seemed to stem from the north and quickly covered the earth in its rain soaked veil. Leaving its drenched inhabitants gaping at the sky in wonder, not knowing it was merely the planet reacting to the sorrow the last High Summoner felt.

Aeris hardly cared about how loud she might be, didn't care about anything else but the grievous pain she felt in her heart. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Time had lost all meaning and she let her sobs overwhelm her, wracking her body violently with every shaking cry that escaped her lips. Eventually the torrent of tears ebbed as her strength waned. Her breathing was still uneven and often hitched, punctuated by the occasional soft sob or sniffle. With a tremulous sigh, she attempted to gain a measure of control over her emotions, which were in utter chaos.

Her eyes moved to the man who'd introduced said chaos. Staring at him guardedly behind her folded arms, she let a well of anger boil within her. How could he just lay there so peacefully -- looking so damned innocent? Had her mother really known? For the first time since her revival, she reached out to the planet for answers. Closing her eyes, she sought and soon found its well of power, and wordlessly she implored it to speak with her. A soft hum answered back, its myriad voices singing with quiet joy upon feeling her presence. It sent to her a million feelings, all filled with color, light and sound, and willingly, she let the planet's happiness at her return run through her. She couldn't help but smile at the almost childlike glee in its greeting. It had missed her and she had missed it, more than she even realized. She sent this thought back to it and with an equal sense of joy upon speaking with her oldest friend.

For the last three years, she'd felt so empty and had never comprehended why that might be. Her mother had said that the Promised Land had a habit of making one forget things. You had to let go of mortal whim and the way that was done was by erasing your memories. Aeris had resisted but paradise had taken her memories despite her struggle to remember. What other memories had Elysium spirited away in an effort to assimilate her into its reality? Her kinship with the planet must have been the first thing it had taken. For it was her strongest bond to her former life, other than Cloud: Who she'd been too stubborn to forget. Aeris felt a little guilty that she had so easily pushed her best friend from her thoughts and allowed it to be forgotten.

The planet had always been there for her, buoying her up when she became depressed or overwhelmed by her duty. When she was uncertain, it would rush to her aid and show her the way. When she was tired, it would give her a bit of its own energy to sustain her. Always, it had cared for her; eschewing its own pain, becoming a limitless source of optimism and a beacon of light that led her from dark thoughts and unpleasant nightmares. It had been her constant and most loyal companion. In many ways, she had leaned on it more than anyone, trusted it more implicitly than anyone else in her life. But now she was filled with doubt because she wondered if all that time it had been only using her. Not only had it lied to her about her duty, let her give her life for a task that wasn't her own... but now, it had allowed her murderer to become her guardian. And once again, it had remained silent the entire time. She tried to stem her fury, but was miserably unsuccessful. It rippled through their connection and she winced when she felt the planet recoil from the strength of the emotion. She didn't mean to second-guess her friend, but she had to admit, it did look awfully bad.

"We know what you feel," Gaia sang, its voice a vast array of melodies and tones. "We understand and we never meant to deceive you. We thought it easier that you did not know... we were wrong and we are sorry, Lady Aeris."

Aeris was startled for a moment at the almost formal tone of the planet. It had always spoken more archaically than she'd liked, but it had never referred to her that way. There almost seemed to be deference in its manner, as if she was greater than it, which was ridiculous, the planet was older and far wiser than she.

"W-why.... why didn't you tell me about all of it and why him?"

"We were only concerned with the return of our favorite daughter -- we chose you, but the selection of your guardian is left to those who dwell in the Promised Land. It would be best if you asked your mother... she is the agent of heaven that vouched for you both."

"My mother?"

"Yes, she was the one who worked hard for this one's release," the planet replied, its voices indicating that it spoke of Sephiroth, but entirely unwilling to speak his name. Aeris was unsure if it was out of fear or something else. "She also spoke well for you... the powers that be have been very resistant to our call. Without your mother, we think you would not be here at all. As for this one, we felt no malice in her decision, so we did not object."

"What?!! He tried to _KILL_ you! HE KILLED ME! WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINK--"

"My lady, this one is no longer the vessel of the crisis. If we felt him to be a threat, we would not allow his return..."

"He doesn't _deserve_ to return," Aeris snarled, feeling decidedly petulant and stubborn.

"The powers that be have disagreed..." and as the planet said this, there was a hint of confusion and distrust. Aeris was annoyed at first, thinking the feelings directed at herself but slowly she realized this was not so. It vaguely hinted to her that the very powers it just spoke of might not be entirely trustworthy, but it never said as much. After a pause, the planet continued, its voices wary with concern. "We ask you to be careful, Lady Aeris. We feel great darkness forming from within the light and all of it is laying its finger upon you. Terrible danger looms... I fear to death."

Aeris was still befuddled by the planet's words. Thinking it aggravating that it didn't tell her more plainly what was going on. _Why did everything have to be a riddle_? Annoyed, she grumbled at the planet's mysterious warnings. "Danger, yeah, and his name is Seph--"

"Do not be obtuse, child," the planet chided her. "He is no longer our concern. Despite his misguided intentions, he was the greatest warrior of his time -- his strength and knowledge will aid you. You would do well to let go of your hate. This one has returned to us, he is harmless and he will help. This is all we need to know, and it should be the same for you. This hatred... it mars your spirit."

Aeris was about to spit back with a vicious retort but the planet severed the connection before she could. And as the essence of her long time friend ebbed away from her, it left her with a feeling of great disappointment, letting her know that it did not approve of her negative attitude and it worried that in her current state she might not be able to help. She couldn't help the furious rage she felt. To her, it was natural and seamless. How else was she supposed to react? Aeris did agree somewhat with the planet -- this wasn't like her at all but she couldn't help it but that monster had taken everything from her. She let out a small, frustrated grunt, gaze fixating on the convenient target of her hate. Aeris still didn't know why her mother had vouched for him -- why she felt he was the best choice for her daughter.

Sephiroth had always been a master manipulator and one idea had taken over her mind, he had somehow tricked the planet and her mother into agreeing to this, so that he could escape punishment. It seemed a logical conclusion as anything else; more logical than the idea that he might _actually _be seeking redemption. Monsters don't seek salvation for the havoc they wreak; it is in their nature to be destructive.

He stirred in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly. At this, she nearly jumped three feet in the air, letting out a little squeak of terror. Really, how was she going to this? She took another deep breath and focused on her anger at him. It was an easy way to divert her mind and ready it for the task at hand. She was unsure how long she waited for him to wake, but it was a long time -- her butt was completely numb. Blinking languorously, her head began to nod forward, hands slipping to her sides as her entire body relaxed. She shook away her tiredness with a start, opening and closing her eyes in an attempt to keep herself awake. With a grimace, she rubbed her lids and yawned widely.

She was a bit puzzled why it was taking him so long to wake up but upon contemplation, it wasn't that much of a surprise. The spell that was used to revive them was the planet's own magic. As a half-Cetra, Aeris was in tune with this power and so there were no after affects on her because she was a part of it and it was a part of her. Sephiroth, being a human and tainted by Jenova, wouldn't be as in sync with the spell's magic. She was unsure as to what side affects might afflict him, and for this reason, she wasn't overly anxious that he wasn't waking, if he stayed asleep -- all the better. Sadly, this was not one of her options and if she had to deal with him, than she'd rather do it now and get this all over with. This waiting was going to drive her mad. The wild desire to just walk over there and kick him surfaced and it was with great effort that she resisted the urge, though she didn't stifle the image in her head, nor did she hold back the small chuckle the thought brought her.

The soft rustling of snapped her attention back to where Sephiroth lay, the uncertain calm that had settled over her dissipated and her body tensed. A light moan escaped his lips, and he shifted position from lying on his side, to his back. As he turned, she could see his face contort in what looked to be pain. His head shook back and forth, a shiver running through his body at the mourned loss of some forgotten warmth. The pained expression on his face softened somewhat as his eyes blinked open slowly. Aeris held her breath, watching as he gazed upward blankly. His face crumpled, and he squeezed his eyes shut. One hand lifted to wipe away whatever was troubling him, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose as he carefully sat up. It was a blatant attempt to stave off a headache he couldn't avoid. Running his hand over his forehead and through his hair, he looked around, curiously noting much of the scenery around him before his gaze fixed on Aeris.

Color drained from her face and her blood seemed to turn to ice as she looked into the eyes of her murderer. Unconsciously, she pressed herself into the wall as if willing her body to slip through it and escape into the city behind her. Her fear of him was unmistakable and he noticed it with sadness that never touched his face but, instead, it was held in the depths of his eyes -- a desolate sorrow that rippled the jaded surface imperceptibly, but it was there nonetheless. Aeris noticed this, just as she had before, though this time it actually registered in her mind and caused her to pause. She had expected a much different reaction than whatever this was. In the few times she met him, he seemed so sure of himself, there was never any hint of self doubt. His eyes had been vacant windows then, soullessly devoid of anything resembling emotion. _Something's different_, she said in a hushed interior whisper.

She couldn't tear her gaze from his and for long moments they remained like this: Frozen in a tableau, the soft filtered light of the ancient city coloring the silent exchange in green and gold. Gentle pastels caressed the figures below; it was the calm before the storm. The glass cage that held them broke when he moved suddenly.

He had been instructed as to what he should do but he had always been awkward and unsure of how to handle things like this. Ifalna and Lucrecia had done their part to socialize him but he was still an inept judge of other people's emotional state in non-battle situations. It was too soon to approach her, too bold a move. She did not trust him and though he saw her fear nor did he see the anger that lay just behind it. Like a fool, Sephiroth slid forward and attempted to peel the rosary from his wrist. He was supposed to give it to her... Ifalna had been clear about that. Before he could complete the action, she bolted up from her spot so that she stood. Her hands grabbed at the railing behind her and it looked very much like she might just climb over the edge and jump if he came any closer.

Aeris stared at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Her mind stalled, incomplete thoughts flashing through her mind as she tried to process what she saw. _So different_. The cold and calculating ex-general, unable to see anything but horror and death and more than willing to take every last person on earth with him into hell. -- the brightest of heaven's fallen, and more demon than man. That's what she knew.

This man, he looked the same but...

Gods above, there was a time when her pity had equaled her fear. She had restrained those remembrances, because they hampered her hatred of him. Looking at Sephiroth now brought back those feelings. Even so, she couldn't deny that something had happened. He was different. She could feel it and with this change came new fear. This changed Sephiroth was far more frightening than the mad-man had been. The monster was cruel which made it very easy to hate him. But the man that stared at her from the floor was just that: A man. Neither good nor evil, he just _was_ and that fact created ambiguity in her black and white order.

She swallowed a frightened sigh, the breath clicking in the back of her throat. He stood slowly, a great towering figure rising from the depths of the city's light; pale and imposing. Through her terror she couldn't help but notice his clipped and efficient grace -- the grace born of a trained warrior, cultivated for one purpose: To make killing that much easier. She shrunk from him as this thought passed, finally averting her eyes as she inched towards the exit. He bowed his head at this and he moved aside so that he no longer blocked her access to the staircase beyond. It was an open invitation to run from him, he was giving her room to escape and she paused in puzzlement. She looked from him to the exit and back again. Her eyes were wide with confusion. Biting her lip, Aeris was no longer sure of much anything.

Driven by curiosity to understand this change, she stopped inching away and stood her ground. With a deep breath, she pried her hands from the railing and forced them to her sides, though she couldn't help clenching them into tiny fists, her bravery only went so far. With effort, she managed to calm her breathing at bit, and slowly the rest of her body caught up. Her hands relaxed and when she opened her eyes, she was able to gaze at him levelly with only a small trace of fear. As if sensing her attention, he lifted his head from the floor to look at her, though he did not look her in the eyes.

The scar in her abdomen chose that moment to twitch in pain and she lifted a hand to relieve it, rubbing it over her stomach as she winced a little. His brows creased together as he finally made eye contact with her. The mere glance he gave her was filled with guilt stricken regret and sorrow. It was a rare show of emotion for him, so slight, so subtle that she barely even caught its glimmer before he quickly looked away.

"You remember," he said softly, instantly regretting the words for their obvious stupidity.

The wonderment that had colored her eyes went dead and the world around her quieted into deathly stillness. Sephiroth realized then that he had awoken something in the girl that she'd rarely released, as rare as the emotions he held back. Her entire manner had cooled but this did not lessen the fury that boiled within.

"Of course, I remember," she snapped, her eyes narrowed as she enunciated every word with sharp, bitter intent. "I was the one impaled on _your_ sword; it's an experience that's kind of hard to forget."

There was really no reply he could muster to stem her fury. The more imprecise emotions had always eluded him and he was an unqualified judge when it came to dealing with them, but anger was an emotion he was well acquainted with. He'd often used his through knowledge of the feeling when facing an opponent. This girl was an enigma, but her rage was painfully plain; it wouldn't take much to set her off at this point. Lowering his eyes, he understood and was willing to take whatever she had to give.

"Do you remember me?"

Wordlessly, he nodded, turning away to look across the abandoned city. Aeris would not be content to let him suffer silently. She was out for blood, not in the literal sense. There was no way she could hurt him on a physical level. But she _would_ hurt him...

"Wow, that's surprising," she remarked sarcastically; barely recognizing her own voice. "I'm curious; I was just one murder in a long line of murders. At the time, I think you said that I was 'trouble' and 'in the way'. You didn't even know my name. My death meant nothing to you. So why pretend that it does now?"

He said nothing; didn't even look at her. And she wondered if he'd even heard a word that she'd said. He just stood there like an immoveable block, his gaze firmly fixed to the left of the altar, never even attempting to meet her eyes.

Sephiroth saw none of this, too focused on the winding city beyond him, wishing that he were back in his own personal hell; it much easier than being here with her. On one level he knew that this was coming, but he had hoped to avert such a confrontation. Her mother had described a sweet and understanding girl. There was a childish hope in his heart that she'd just forget what had happened. Or that she'd understand it wasn't all his doing, that she'd know that it was Jenova -- who had used him to hurt her and in knowing this, she'd just forgive him so he wouldn't have to stand here and face what he'd done to her. It was a wish that would go unanswered.

"You unbelievable son of a bitch! Why are you even here?"

He closed his eyes, and bowed his head. Gods, he didn't think he could do this. He had told Ifalna and she hadn't listened.

"Answer me!"

_Just let her hate you, _he thought, willing her to pour all her misery on him.

"Whatever game you're playing, it won't work. I don't know how you tricked the planet into helping you but if you think for one moment that I'll stand by and--"

"I haven't deceived anyone."

She laughed at him, she actually laughed. "You expect me to believe that?"

His jaw tightened at her derision and crossed his arms. "Believe what you want." He barely managed to keep the rising anger out of his voice. As badly as he felt at what he'd done to her, she didn't deserve to be hurt more but he would not be mocked.

"I believe that you are a monster. I believe you're here to finish what you started." She paused for effect, her eyes becoming dark with anger. "And I'll be damned before I'll let you use me and the planet to further your agenda."

His hope shattered at that moment. He had actually hoped she'd forgive him... what a fool. This mission was a hopeless mire of guilt and shame, devised to humiliate him. He wouldn't be broken. Not by her. Yes, he had wronged her and he'd accepted it, was sorry for it, but that didn't mean he had to be abused.

"You think I asked for this? I don't _want_ to be here..."

"Like hell you don't!" Aeris shreiked; pausing as he slowly turned his gaze to meet her own and what she saw in him nearly stopped her heart. In his eyes, she saw the haunted regret, the shadowed wish for oblivion as plain as day. He wanted to die. Aeris staggered back, eyes blinking wildly as she held her heart, remembering what the planet had told her. It had forgiven him and if that was so then that meant... She lifted her eyes to his, wide with disbelief. "It can't be... you're telling the truth."

Worse than her mockery, was her pity. He'd had enough of this -- he still had pride beyond the ever-dwindling hope that she'd understand. For three long years he'd worked, he'd hoped that by some miracle he'd find peace. Yes, Ifalna had mentioned it wouldn't be easy, but she also didn't tell him it'd be impossible. It was hopeless, stupid. The girl would never forgive him and he'd fail her because he was an untrustworthy monster in her eyes. A failure, yes that was what he was; he'd mocked Strife for being a failure, for being weak. Ironic that it was really he who was the weak one and Strife and this girl... they were strong. What right did he have to be here? There was nothing for him to prove, he wasn't worthy of a second chance -- Ifalna in anger had said so herself. And when all was said and done, he'd just end up in hell again anyway. It was pointless.

"Redemption," he murmured; his voice soft but pointedly bitter as he laughed. "There is no redemption for me."

Aeris felt suddenly very guilty at the almost forlorn look on his face. It was ridiculous; he was the one who'd wronged her but if he was really here for redemption...

"You... you could apologize... I mean, if you were really sorry and all..."

He looked up at her incredulously. "Are you really that naive or just plain stupid?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

The short leash he had on his temper snapped and he was no longer able to control his mounting ire. Nothing would hold him back now, not even the shame he felt over what he'd done to this girl. She was just like everyone else; so judgmental, thinking herself so much better than him and finding it all too easy to cast the first stone. He wondered if she'd feel more comfortable with a human monster like Rufus Shinra. Would she treat him with the same amount of merciless contempt? Probably not -- because Shinra was human yet he had killed more people and been responsible for more destruction that he could even imagine. No matter how deranged his acts had been during his long period of insanity, he had only been one man. A man, no, he wasn't a man in her eyes. Shinra was a man and his sins would be forgiven; by the girl and by the planet. But Sephiroth -- he was no man -- he was an indolent beggar; a thing to be used and abused.

Why not kick him while he was down? It wasn't like he could feel anyway. How much suffering would it take? What punishments would he have to endure before the planet finally said, _Enough -- you've paid your due_? His entire existence had been nothing but one long mobius strip of suffering and pain, and matter how many times he was reborn, it would never change. Maybe the entire last three years had just been a prelude before he was thrown straight into the nightmarish pits of the inferno. Instead, he was here with her, seeking redemption he knew he didn't deserve and was now convinced he'd never get. Paying reparations in his continual suffering and the girl would squeeze this stone until it bled. She'd have her pound of flesh.

Sephiroth wasn't arrogant enough to think that he merited anything at all from this girl, other than her righteous anger. He wanted to respect her as he did her mother. Ifalna was a gracious lady, willing to forgive him. Her mother hated what he'd done, what he'd become, but she never hated him as a person. She'd always given him respect and for the first time, he'd felt like any other man, any other human. Treating him kindly, despite the hurt he'd caused her. He had expected the girl to be the same and how sadly mistaken he was. She was no better than those who'd mistreated him. No, she was worse. For the last twenty minutes she'd berated him with her petty platitudes and the ridiculous insistence that he apologize. Hatred, he understood but this pity mixed with derision was more than he could bear, and as her diatribe came to an end, Sephiroth finally lost his temper.

"Are you even listening?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why should I?" She opened her mouth to interrupt him but he wouldn't give her the chance at a comeback. "Do you _really_ believe an apology will make up for what I've done?"

She backed away a little, as he came closer. Her hands searching for the railing as she shakily replied: "But... but you have to s-start somewhere! An apology would show good faith..."

"Apologies are nothing but empty, hollow words after all I've done." Sephiroth crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Let's ask your friends, shall we? What would they think if I waltzed into whatever hovels they're living in and begged forgiveness? In your perfect world, I'm sure they'd forgive me. Hell, we'd probably have a little heart to heart over cups of international coffee. Maybe have us a good cry and then everyone would live happily ever after. I'm sure Strife would REALLY appreciate it too. _'Sorry about burning your hometown to the ground_.'-- '_Eh, no hard feelings, as long as you're really, really sorry_'. So, tell me, are you naive or just plain stupid?"

"Don't you dare... He would forgive you because he's a better man than you could _EVER_ be!!"

Sephiroth let the insult slide, instead he laughed harshly, striding so that he stood right before her, letting her shrink from his piercing gaze. "Is that so? Somehow, I think we both know that isn't true."

"It is! I know it is!"

"Please, your 'friends' aren't that forgiving. See, I know what would happen if I went to them, begging for forgiveness." He slowly held up one finger, his gaze hardening. "They'd kill me on sight." He held up another finger. "Or they'd imprison me and have a nice public trial, in the interest of being better than me, because it's 'fair'. They'd trot me out, making a grand public spectacle of the event and then the trial would go forward. Of course, I'd lose, and then the world would wait with baited breath as the date of my execution neared. And it would be execution, because god knows, I don't deserve to live. _That_ is reality. Nothing I say. Nothing I do will redeem me. My sin is too great."

"That's not true," she sobbed, tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Really?" The harsh expression he wore softened a bit and when he spoke the menace in his voice was gone -- replaced by a gentleness she was unaware he possessed. "Fine, then let's start with you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I've done to you, for everything that I've taken from you. I've never been sorrier for anything in my life." He paused, stepping back as he averted his eyes. Unfamiliar emotions tugged at his heart and he didn't want her to see them. She did, but in the end it didn't matter. Regaining composure, he lifted his gaze and in his eyes, she could see his naked hope. "Forgive me."

A sincere apology was the last thing she'd expected of him. She was amazed and could not think of what to say. He took her silence as an open rejection and she realized this as she watched the sliver of hope in his eyes die. Sorrow, the likes of which she'd never knew existed entered his eyes and she opened her mouth to say something... but before she could all the gentler emotion in him died.

"Thank you for proving my point." His lips curled into a small snarl, and he clapped his hands together once. The sound echoed violently, breaking the seamless silence that surrounded them. "End of lesson."

With that he turned and stalked out of the altar, his foot falls reverberating behind him.

"Where are you going?" she shouted after him.

There was no reply from his retreating figure. Confused and upset, Aeris watched him disappear like a ghost into the darkness, leaving her wondering what had happened. How could she have mistaken him so gravely? She sunk to the ground, her mind in utter turmoil. In the empty city, she buried her face in her hands and wept at a complete loss for anything else to do.


	7. Broke in Two

_To forgive is not to forget. The merit lies in loving in spite of the vivid knowledge that the one that must be loved is not a friend. _

_--Mahatma Gandhi_

Sephiroth stormed out the forgotten city, making his way up the long stairs and straight towards the exit. There were several times in his life when he'd been as angry as he was now. This instance was nothing special, and, in truth, he really wasn't all that upset. There had been times in his life when he had been even angrier. To the point where he barely remembered what had set him off, where all he saw was red. Though this time would have made a top ten list of situations that thoroughly pissed him off, it was hardly a spectacular display of his rather infamous temper. That dubious honor would always belong to Nibelheim, he thought bitterly. That city was a physical manifestation of his sin and he feared he'd never be able to shake its tattered ghost. It had combined with all the rest of his sins and would follow him always, rattling its chains after him.

With a heavy sigh, he accepted the truth of his situation. He'd never be able to escape from what he'd done. There was a pang of guilt as he strode up the stairs when he heard the girl's sobs behind him. He had pretended not to hear, and hardened his because he knew any concern for her on his part would be lost on the girl. It had become crystal clear that she would not forgive him. His presence was neither needed nor wanted and he was sure she'd be glad to leave his company. Let her find her friends, they could protect her better than he. In the back of his mind he knew that Ifalna had forbade her to see them, and she'd told him that he'd have to stay with the girl, no matter what, but Sephiroth had never been a man who followed rules obediently, and now he was even less inclined than ever to do what heaven willed. This entire mission was a joke. He only hoped the girl came to the same conclusion. Not that he cared what she did; at this point, he'd gladly allow himself to be devoured -- feet first -- by a behemoth as soon as look at her.

His long strides carried him from the underground part of the city quickly. Entering the small foyer that led to the altar beneath him, he heard the rather unwelcome sound of a veritable downpour. Slowly, he approached the door that lead outside and peered out cautiously. His face fell, a look of blank annoyance plastered on his face.

"Fuck," he whispered softly before pulling his hood back over his head and stepping out into the rain soaked night.

The world around him was cloaked in midnight purple, illuminated by bright flashes of lightening as he made his way across the abandoned residential part of the ancient city. The pavement hissed as the rain furiously pelted its worn surface, and the overburdened clouds above showed no signs of slowing its delivery. It soaked through his clothes quicker than he liked and by the time he'd gotten halfway through the city he was soaked to the bone. Now, not only was he angry but also wet and miserable.

In less than twenty minutes he made his way to the large shell that served as the city's northernmost exit. What remained of his anger had driven him thus far and though the rain had cooled his temper somewhat, he was still resolved. He had abandoned this fool's errand as surely as the ancients themselves had abandoned their city. There was only one choice. It was too late for him to go back and beg the powers that be to send him back. So he'd go out into the world, find Strife and let the boy put an end to it.

He prepared to jump to the first spine that served as steps to the gateway. Mid-jump he was surprised by a sudden jolt that threw him backwards and away from the exit. His limp body fell, skidding across the ground before coming to a rest. A moment passed before he pushed himself up on wobbly arms, shaking the cobwebs from his head. He winced as he set his gaze to the gateway. His vision was still blurry from the fall and from the rain and mud that soaked his face and clothes. Wiping the moisture away, he stared at the exit, hoping to glean from it an answer. When nothing was forth coming, he furrowed his brows in annoyance.

"Sonvabitch."

Sephiroth checked himself over for injury and finding none, he approached the gateway once more. This time he was more careful, slowly moving towards it with outstretched hand to check for a barrier. Not surprisingly, his hand came into contact with a solid, invisible wall that had been placed just in front of the gateway. He let loose a stream of curses that would make any sailor blush before calming himself quickly. There had to be a solution for this, some way for him to escape this place. Aggravated, he placed his palm on the wall and concentrated, trying to find a chink in the wall's defense. If he still possessed the power he had before, this barrier would have been nothing to him. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he punched the wall in a display of pointless rage. The spell that sealed the exit reacted negatively, flinging him backwards for the second time. He braced himself against its blow, stumbling backwards a few feet but managing to remain standing. Looking up at the exit barred to him, his eyes blazed with renewed anger. _What in the hell was going on_?

Furious now, he assailed the wall again and received yet another sharp push back. It didn't faze him in the least, he braced himself and with his uncommon grace he recovered, launching himself at the wall once more. Like an enraged tiger, he paced back and forth. Attacking the walls of his prison, no matter how much damage it caused to himself. He'd been a prisoner all his life and just once he wanted to be free. With each successive hit, the wall's response to him became increasingly more violent. Hurling him farther, and when that alone didn't work, it graduated to sending a mild jolt of electricity through its surface whenever his fist connected. This too proved to be an ineffective deterrent. When Sephiroth was angry there was little that would still his rage, pain especially -- in fact, it seemed the more pain inflicted upon him, the angrier he got. He let loose another series of devastating strikes, which served only to send him flying backwards into a tree.

Sephiroth pulled himself up, weak and shaky due to his fall and the massive electric shock that surged through his body. His knuckles were blackened and blood poured from the cracked flesh openly. The clothes he wore were now completely soaked in rain and mud. His normally brilliant silver hair had turned a dull gray-brown. Tiredly, he wiped at his lip, which had split upon falling from the tree to the ground. Though his eyes lacked their mako glow, they still burned in their sockets. Their attention was drawn solely to the barrier, and with a snarl, he narrowed those eyes and prepared to attack again. A sudden ripple in the back of his mind drew his attention away from the barrier. He felt a presence entering his mind and froze on the spot. Fear was an emotion he'd long ago banished, but that wriggle in the back of his mind, it brought him to as close to real terror as he had in ages.

"Jenova," he whispered, his eyes wide and staring in the oppressive dark. He waited to feel her cold, vice like grip take him. His entire body shaking as he anticipated the tortures she'd put him under for his traitorous disobedience. _What do you want, witch?_ he thought tersely, irritated that she hadn't revealed herself. Whatever it was, he would fight harder this time. He wouldn't let her win; let the bitch kill him if she wanted, though deep down, he was terrified. He was weak; he knew this and a part of him also acknowledged that he could never really escape what _She'd_ done to him. Couldn't deny the fact that there was a part of him longed for the simplicity _She_ offered. And right now, the pleasant oblivion _She_ would give him sounded tempting. _N_o. He shook his head; as hard as life would be for him, he'd die a man. He'd die as himself, not as the monster Jenova and Hojo worked so hard to create.

The presence he felt danced forward, it was warm and inexplicably he felt his fear abate. His heart leapt; perplexed by the sensation that was unlike anything he'd felt before. Instead of the desiccated voice of Jenova, what came was a deep, genderless hum. Calmed by the soft humming, he felt himself relax as the hum formed into clear musical tones -- instruments and voices combined to form an enchanted melody that was familiar yet strange to him. The rhythmic cadence of the voices soothed him with this song. In the middle of the rain soaked field, near the exit to the city, Sephiroth stood in a trancelike state. His eyes closed, and his whole body relaxed. He tried to resist, convinced it was just another of _Her_ tricks. But the more he resisted it, the more at ease the song made him feel. He tried very hard to summon a wave of fury that would make those imprecise and unforgivably foreign emotions flee. Happiness, peace... All so strange to him, they had been unattainable in his former life and for that reason he had loathed and envied those who could feel them. Now that he could feel them, he knew what he had been missing and it made his pain that much more acute. He wanted nothing more than to banish them, because they reminded him of his abnormality and because he was afraid that he'd never feel them again. It was all to no avail. The warmth of the voices overwhelmed him and he was enveloped by the brightness of their light. He surrendered himself.

Lazily, he blinked and opened his eyes into a white washed world he barely recognized. His overtired eyes slowly recognized the forest he'd been in before. That odd path he'd taken to in vain hope of finding redemption. He felt weightless, hovering above the forest he'd wandered for three years. Long tendrils of silver hair undulated in front of his vision. He lifted a hand to brush it away, entranced as he watched a figure appear from the light. In form and shape, it appeared to be his mother but there was a difference.

Sephiroth had never been one to warm up to people. Ifalna and his mother, Lucrecia had been exceptions. Ifalna he'd accepted for her natural charm and openness. She was strong and strength was something he could respect. Lucrecia he'd accepted partially because of her biological tie to him. But he did admit to enjoying her company more than the Cetra. She was reserved and quiet, and not as gregariously optimistic as Ifalna was. Lucrecia had uncannily understood him and how he felt which he guessed was no surprise, she _was_ his mother and she had spent her afterlife looking after him, even if he'd never known it. In many ways, they were alike. Shy, introspective and preferring their own company to that of others. Being alone had suited both mother and son quite well.

In the last three years, he'd spent much time with his mother and though he wasn't the most emotionally perceptive of people, he'd come to know the woman quite well. There had always been a nervous edge to Lucrecia, born of a lack of social skills and self esteem. The woman that approached him had no hesitation in her step and her eyes gleamed with strength. If it had been Ifalna, he'd not have been disturbed or surprised. Confidence of that kind, however, was a rarely seen in the mournful eyes of his mother.

"Mother?" he questioned, unsure as to why he was suddenly so uneasy.

"Yes and no," the apparition replied. "I was borrowed for the benefit of one who cannot speak for itself -- at least, not to you, not yet." The woman who was and was not his mother paused, a subtle change overcoming her, as if she was channeling another force. "We took this as our vessel because it seemed to bring you comfort. If it displeases you, we can assume another."

"No... what... Who are you?"

"We are that which is most concealed. Eternal, ancient and born of the stars; we are the middle ground between heaven and hell. We are that which you fought so hard to are what you and the lady summoner now should be fighting to save."

"The planet?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing with befuddlement. "I'm not Cetra. I shouldn't be able to speak with you at all..."

Lucrecia smiled, interrupting him. "Always questioning." She laughed then and it sounded like the tinkling of a thousand tiny bells. "No, this one is not Cetra. You are more human than you have ever been before. We have removed that which tainted you as best we could. And we have given you enough of the essence of the first ones so that speaking to you is made somewhat easier, though your connection is frightfully weak. This is why we must create an avatar to speak with you."

"Why would you want to speak with me?"

"Because this one wishes to abandon his purpose before it has been fulfilled, it cannot be allowed."

Sephiroth was annoyed now and asked, a bit _too_ sarcastically: "And what purpose would that be?"

"This one must guide the lady summoner and see that she comes to no harm."

"This one -- why do you keep calling me that? I have a name..."

"Yes, and this one has a title as well but until you accept the purpose given you, we may not name you. This one still carries the lady summoner's gift. Why has this one not given it to her?" The planet through Lucrecia stopped speaking, regarding the former general with a gentle but appraising gaze. "This one thinks the lady summoner will not accept him. This one seeks death rather than travel the long and winding road to salvation. You are, of course, wrong."

"I'm not... I have no right. She'd been better off with anyone else..."

"Ridiculous. There is no one more qualified than this one," Lucrecia replied. "The lady summoner holds great power, having claimed what you once sought. It is so great that she cannot bear it on her own. We think this is why this one was chosen to be her guardian."

He snorted. "Because I'm strong?"

"No, it is because you are _weak_ that you have been chosen. You understand the inherent danger of having so much power, having succumbed to it yourself."

"What do you mean by that?" he queried, astounded at the implications in the planet's undulating tones. "You mean. Could she?"

"Tear this world apart. Yes, you need only look at the storm she created to realize this." The planet's avatar looked at him pointedly then, speaking to him more directly, more firmly than it had before. "This is why your role as guardian is so important. Why you will _not_ be allowed to leave. You are her knight and as such, it is your duty to help her shoulder this burden and keep it from corrupting her."

His expression hardened. "Help her? She won't accept my help. You know it and I know it. I can't do this..."

"But you haven't even begun. There are those who pray for your failure... who actively work for it. Accept you role now or let the lady summoner die and take all existence with her."

He hung his head despondently; wishing whole-heartedly that the planet would just admit defeat. He couldn't do this; the task set ahead for him was too difficult. This task was beyond his skill. What dangers lay ahead, he could face, but to try and soldier the will to help a victim of his hate -- to have to look the girl in the eyes and see her loathing. It was too much. And he'd never admit it, but he was disappointed to think that she would reject him. Disappointed but not surprised. _So foolish_, he thought with quiet acrimony. _Useless_... Why did everyone try so hard to save him? The planet's avatar came to him then, placing her hand on his cheek and gently tilting his head so that she could look into his eyes.

"Because we _know_ you are worth saving. You are as much our child as the lady summoner is, and are just as important to us as she. We love all our children, even when they make mistakes."

"It won't matter..."

"Nonsense, you are a part of us and we are a part of you. Fate chose you as Lady Aeris's only guardian. You are as stubborn as she. Have more faith, Sephiroth." The avatar smiled then, a mysterious and rather unnerving gesture on a face that was normally open and without guile. "We name you Din, the ineffable. Go, protect the last High Summoner and let our blessings go with thee." She blinked and when her eyes met his again, the planet's presence was gone, leaving only his mother behind. "Good luck, my son...." she said as his vision faded away.

The warm presence of the planet receded and the world intruded on him once more, cooling the fleetingly blissful aftereffects of his conversation with the planet. Moments ago he'd wished for hell and now in a stunning turnaround, he wished to go back to the small bit of paradise he felt within the planet's song -- would that fate would be so kind.

_This is madness_, he thought, annoyed with the planet for having such high hopes and even more annoyed with himself, because he was going to do as it asked.

With a sigh, he turned his sightless gaze to the sky and let the rain pelt his upturned face. He stood there for quite some time; a completely silent, motionless figure that basked in the rain. It washed away the mud that had caked his face and hair -- and though it wasn't entirely gone, he was at least somewhat cleaner. The same could be said of his doubts. Somewhat washed away but still there. He made a promise to the sky. The girl would come to no harm as long as he still lived. If nothing else, he was useful for his physical strength and he would use it to protect her. He would be her guardian, no more, no less. His eyes opened just barely enough to see the smallest hint of jade beneath his lashes, opening wider as he tilted his head down. Through the broken haze of pounding rain, he left the gateway and strolled back into the city like a man who hadn't a care in the world.

He walked more slowly this time, setting a leisurely pace with intent that belied its purpose. His strides were smooth, unconcerned but they were forced. He was trying very hard to conceal how much pain he was in. For his own reasons, he didn't want the girl to know how changed he truly was. The last thing he needed was her gloating over his new humanity, his weakness. It was bad enough that his entire body ached as a result of his foolish attack on the barrier. He certainly didn't need to add her already aggravating derision added to it, though he was glad that Jenova's taint had been mostly removed from him. The slowness of his recovery and his physical exhaustion was rather disruptive but it was better than being a puppet to a demonic slave master.

This gave him new insight on humanity in general and he wondered how they did it. Being so fragile, so easily hurt. And they fought him like this? Lifting a hand to gaze at it, he was fascinated by the fact that it hadn't healed yet. How long would it take before it did? Would it hurt the entire time? Had Jenova still tainted him, the wound would have already knitted together. He wondered if he'd get any scars. Such random thoughts popped into his head as he pondered the quirks of humanity while he walked. The rain had been forgotten as he walked past the entrance to the chamber that held the ancient machine. He'd never been in the chamber itself, but he had known of it, having explored the city completely the last time he was alive.

Sound erupted suddenly and Sephiroth froze, his attention wavering from his hand to the chamber. He cocked his head and listened more closely to the raucous sound coming from the chamber. Voices, he could clearly hear voices. Curious, he drew closer, entering as quietly as he could, though it was difficult for him to manage his normal velvet silence when he hurt as much as he did. Not that the only other occupant of the machine's chamber would notice. The girl lacked anything resembling basic survival skills, most notably her apparent obliviousness to that which surrounded her.

He took a position behind a pillar, his gaze flickering to the large crystalline machine that was the focal point of the room. Slight movement in the chamber caught his eye. It was the girl and the look on her face was that of tearful anger. He realized it must have been her he heard. Though he wondered who or what she could have been yelling at in his absence. She approached the machine and with a flippant gesture of her hand it activated. Stepping back, she waited though her impatience was obvious. After ten full minutes, when the thing didn't do as she wanted, she began to berate it in a language Sephiroth didn't understand.

The machine whirred suddenly and an unearthly glow began to emanate from it. Her words caught in her throat and for a moment she seemed transfixed by the machine's smoothly churning gears. From this faded blue light stepped the ghostly image of her mother. Ifalna looked the same, almost exactly as he'd last seen her. He was tempted to stride down there right then and greet her, but he resisted the urge. Something important was happening.

What began was a rather long argument between the two women. Both speaking rapidly in the same strange language, and in various points in the conversation he could clearly hear his own name. He perked up and his annoyance was renewed as he wished he could understand what she said. Most obviously it was about him being her guardian but from there was anyone's guess. So he had to be content to just sit and wait. The argument was hard to watch, mostly because he was unable to follow the flow of the conversation. His name was mentioned several more times. Mostly by Aeris, and mostly -- he guessed -- in a negative light. He couldn't be sure, but Ifalna seemed to be defending him. Whenever she'd mention his name with that spiteful tone of hers, Ifalna would counter in an equally serene voice. Yawning, he decided there was no harm in him sitting down and resting for a moment. Whatever was going on between mother and daughter looked like it was going to take a long time... and he was tired. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes and began to meditate.

Aeris had never been angrier in her life. After Sephiroth had left she had cried for a good twenty minutes, until she was too weary to continue. She found it hard to pinpoint why crying at that moment seemed the right thing to do or why she felt she needed to do it. Her emotions were confused and wavered between the hate she found hard to let go and the stupid sympathy she felt for her murderer. It was obvious to her that in some way he was sincere, she'd have to be blind not to see it. Underneath the bitterness of his words, she had felt real sorrow in them and an almost fruitless desire for forgiveness. Worst of all was the brief flicker of hope that shone in his eyes ...had she killed that in him? Did it matter? She tried to tell herself desperately that it didn't but it did.

That is what made everything so much harder. It was in the Cetran character to be forgiving and by their very nature they were compassionate. Aeris was only half Cetra and while a part of her wanted to forgive Sephiroth, her human heart could not let go of her hate. He had wronged her, and she wanted to punish him. But this simple desire now warred with her instinct to build bridges rather than burn them.

So now the waters were muddied and Aeris had no idea how to move forward. With a shaky sigh she wiped the tears from her face, pouting as she stared into space weighing her options. She couldn't just forgive him because that'd let him off easy. He deserved to squirm, to feel uncomfortable, especially if he was as sorry as he said he was. She paused then, kicking herself for even entertaining such ridiculous thoughts. Since when did it matter to her what he thought or for that matter, what he said? Who cared? And could she even trust his word or his actions? No! She was not naive OR stupid. She couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him. He was a liar and a manipulative bastard who painted pretense after pretense, it made for a pretty little picture but it was no closer to reality than a real painting was; just colored lines and shapes in the form of reality but not reality itself.

What an actor he was, mimicking so well the mannerisms and attitude of the penitent man but it was a facade. A farce. Meant to lull her into complacency, to feel sorry for him and when she let her guard down he'd pounce on her back like a wild tiger. The rotten bastard. She seethed and that fury she nearly let go of returned with a vengeance. And a voice that got smaller as her hate spread cried out to her. It begged her to listen, telling her that she was wrong. With a violent slash of her will, she quieted the calm that tried to claim her and let the storm run its fierce course, ravaging her heart as it did the planet's surface.

Her eyes snapped open and she hit the floor with both fists. This whole thing was one big load of crap. She'd had enough. First, she'd find out exactly what had happened. Why that bastard had been allowed to manipulate the planet's will. Second, once she found out why, she'd _make_ them send him back. And if they couldn't do that, then she'd call an end to this entire fiasco. She couldn't -- NO -- she would NOT work with him.

Determined now, she pushed herself off the floor with eyes flashing. Whatever weariness that was in her fled and as she dusted herself off, the flames of her righteous anger burned that much hotter. She stalked out of the altar and into the main part of the city. Everything was a blur; she barely remembered ascending the stairs, much less exiting into the above ground portions of the capital. She hadn't even noticed the rain as she walked. None of it mattered. Her only concern was obliterating the object of her hate and she wouldn't let anything stand in her way.

She barely blinked as rain ran down her face, creating tiny rivers that mirrored the trail of her tears. Her hair was so wet that it was plastered to her skull, long bangs flattening alongside her face. A few limp tendrils fell wetly over her eyes and with a grunt she pushed them back. By the time she reached the ancient machine, she was completely soaked, looking very much like a cat that had been dunked in a bathtub. Finally noticing the rain and how cold she was, she let out a stream of vile curses -- most of which she'd learned from Cid.

She looked around the room, gaze lingering on the walls and the high ceiling. Momentarily she was impressed into silence. This place held the aura of ancient wisdom, far beyond her knowledge... If she stayed long enough and with enough patience, there were secrets here for her to find -- things that could very well save this planet, perhaps an answer to where her people came from originally or maybe the source of the gathering darkness. She shivered, replaying the planet's warning to her in her mind's eye. Yes, darkness and death loomed, she could feel it now, her bones ached with it and that tiny voice inside her warned her. _You could become a tool of that darkness_... _let this unreasonable hate go_... Aeris shook her head, not letting that voice get its last little jibe in. She was right about this, damn it. She was right.

Her gaze shifted to the stone in the center of the chamber. Humans had called it the ancient machine, a rather unimaginative name that conveyed its purpose without its mystery. In truth, it wasn't a machine at all. She had no knowledge of where her ancestors had found it but she knew its name. It was a stone that had long been prized by the ancients, most simply referred to as moonstone but this particular stone had been named Othila -- after the rune of the same name. The stone itself was large and quite clear, with only small stripes of opaque white running through it. The surface had an ethereal blue sheen to it that made it look as if the moon continually shone on it.

During the days when this city was occupied, Othila had been used as an oracle. It was consulted when no other avenue was open, when the entirety of the ancient's vast knowledge was unable to help. This very same stone had been petitioned to during the dark days of Jenova's betrayal. It hadn't done much good then. She could only hope it would do better now.

* * *

In consulting Othila, you called the spirits of the honored dead forth from the afterlife. And it was for this reason Aeris entered the ancient chamber. With a swipe of her hand, she telepathically called forth the spirit of her mother. Nothing happened. She stood back and waited and waited and waited and waited. She stood there some more. Still nothing happened. She stood there, her fists clenching in frustration and still nothing. She couldn't stand here any longer. With an exasperated cry, she cursed, so angry that when she spoke she slipped into her mother tongue. A habit that often happened to her when she lost her temper, something she'd tried to conceal when she was in Avalanche. Something she wasn't afraid to hide now.

In Cetran, she shouted, sure that her mother could hear and for reasons unknown, refused to answer her. "MOM! MOM! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! MO--"

The stone whirred to life, the gears around it churned and from the opalescent depth of the machine a light poured forth. Her mother stepped out of the light as graceful and beautiful as ever, emerging like a visiting queen. With a kind but concerned smile, she regarded her daughter, her head cocked to one side. "Aeris, what's wrong?"

"You know very well what's wrong!"

Ifalna bowed her head, unsurprised at her daughter's anger. She knew why the girl was so angry and accepted it. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell--"

Aeris didn't want excuses; she didn't care what the reasons were. "YOU KNEW!! You knew and you didn't tell me?!" Her voice cracked as she said it, tears flowing not far after. "I don't understand! How could you do this to me?" The torrent of emotion overwhelmed her and with her last words she pounded her chest for affect. To show her mother how this secret had been like a stab to her heart.

This accusation insulted the older woman. She felt bad that her daughter suffered but what had passed was not her fault. Ifalna refused to take the blame for a choice that was not her own and with careful regality, she answered back: "I have done nothing."

"You lied to me, twice. Sephiroth is my guardian. And what? You just forgot to mention it? You didn't feel it was important?! Explain it to me like I was a five year old, because I fail to understand how you could leave a _little_ detail like that out but if I had known..."

"....You wouldn't have agreed, I know. But this was not entirely my choice. I took upon myself the duty to bear your cause -- to carry out the final will of _your prayer_ and I have fulfilled my duty to the letter and by accepting it, I was bound by ancient celestial law not to reveal his identity."

"Don't put this on me! I didn't pray for this and just because you took on some duty it doesn't mean you have to follow it so blindly!"

Ifalna looked deeply into her daughter's eyes and was disgusted at what she saw. Shaking her head, she spoke quietly but with a commanding voice that brooked no trespass. "These rules have been in place since the beginning of time. Who am I to disobey them? Fact is, they were put in place for a reason."

"Wow, that's some _genius _logic going on right there. So, enlighten me. What possible reason could they have for handing me over to my murderer?"

"Well, considering that this mission concerns the end of all existence, I think choosing the person who came closest to doing exactly that would be a perfect choice to help stop it, don't you?"

"Oh, that is just rich. I can't believe this bull--"

"You watch your tone, young lady. Whether you like it or not, this is how things are."

"NO!" Aeris covered her ears and shouted angrily: "I DON'T CARE! I WON'T DO THIS! SEND ME BACK! I'D RATHER BE DEAD THAN WORK WITH HIM! I--"

"So, you'll punish all existence for your petty grudge?!"

Aeris drew her hands from her ears, eyes flaring with incredulity. "PETTY!? IT'S HARDLY PETTY! HE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!!"

"And you, in turn, will take the world from _everyone_ because you are too weak and selfish to let go of your hate." This quieted the girl and she looked up at her mother through red-rimmed eyes, full of shame and lingering anger.

"It's still... it's not fair... I... How could this happen? Why did you choose him?"

"I didn't choose him. Neither did the planet nor the powers that be." Ifalna paused, noting her daughter's confusion. "Long before your birth, the heavens chose for you a champion: A knight to guard you in your duty but fate denied you this first choice. Celestial laws dictate that in the event that the one chosen by heaven cannot fulfill his duty another is to be assigned. Normally, if this were before you came into your power... this choice would be made again by the heavens. But this was not the case."

"What... what do you mean?"

"You accepted your bond with Cloud, you awoke your power the minute his hand touched yours. When you passed, your bond with him was severed but your power remained. Once you accepted it, you took the power out of heaven's hands and into your own. Therefore, the choice of a new guardian falls to you."

"No..."

"Yes," Ifalna replied simply. With a curt gesture of her hand she summoned an image that played upon the shimmering light given off of the moonstone.

Aeris could see herself as she wandered through that dry plain she'd ventured into when she was still in the Promised Land. She saw herself approaching the shifting barrier that had held her hated enemy. Watched as her hand touched the surface and it revealed the hidden scourge behind it. Shaking her head, she blinked away her tears. What was this? This meant nothing. She had only been wandering and had accidentally stumbled upon him. There was no indication of her choosing him in the least... Couldn't they see that?

"No, I didn't choose him," Aeris said, her voice trembling as more tears poured down her cheeks. "That was an accident. A horrible, stupid accident... but I didn't choose him... I didn't..."

"In the Promised Land, you were a wandering spirit and therefore unable to travel between realms. You remember?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"So how was it that you found Sephiroth? He was in Purgatory -- a place you shouldn't have been able to enter."

"No, that's not... I didn't travel anywhere else. I was in the Promised Land the whole time..."

"No, you most certainly were not. Do you really think that Sephiroth would be allowed into the Promised Land? He might have been given a second chance but the heavens aren't that forgiving."

"I don't understand..."

"It's simple. You not only found Purgatory's border but you crossed it. You took Charon's ferry and entered the realm of temporal penitence. And what's even more impossible: Of all the souls in that realm, you found Sephiroth's and by your own hand, you released him. So tell me -- Whose fault is it now?"

Aeris could do nothing but gape at her mother in complete and utter silence. With another gesture she summoned a vision of the cherry orchard. She watched as the vision version of herself intertwined hands with her guardian. Showing clearly how easily she chose her own path and her unquestioning approval of her guardian. She had found him. She had released him. And she had accepted him; knowingly or unknowingly.

Quietly, Ifalna spoke: "You have no one to blame but yourself. _You_ chose _him_."

Aeris backed away, trembling as she shook her head in denial. "No... No, I didn't. He could have manipulated me... some kind of mind control when I met him there...I..."

The older woman clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Pardon the language, but that is a load of bullshit. A soul imprisoned in Purgatory has even less power than a wandering spirit, you should know that."

"His soul isn't ordinary, though. He could have--"

"Oh, _Honestly_! Why do you persist in this... _foolishness_?" Ifalna asked with an exasperated sigh, torn between wanting to hold her daughter or slap her silly. "You chose him. There is NO denying it."

"Don't... Don't say that," Aeris hissed in a dangerous whisper.

"But it's the truth."

"No!" She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to believe her mother's words, but that damned voice in the back of her head just wouldn't shut up. _You chose him_... and no matter how hard she tried, that voice would not quiet. Not this time.

"Yes. I'm not sure why you chose him or even how, but you did. I don't understand it anymore than you do. Perhaps, if you search your feelings, you must have felt something for--"

"SHUT UP! I could NEVER feel anything for him! He's a monster and I wished he stayed dead! I'd kill him myself if I thought I could! I hate him! I HATE HIM AND I WISH..."

Ifalna let her hand fly out and slapped her daughter full in the face, closing her eyes as her hand connected with her cheek. Ifalna had been taken aback by the look of twisted hate on her daughter's face. It was frightening to see how close the girl was to losing all control. For a moment the entire room was deathly quiet, except for the reverberating echo of the slap. Aeris looked at her mother with dull surprise, holding her cheek with one hand. Ifalna's eyes slowly opened and with them came a tidal wave of tears. She hated having to do that, and her heart broke to know that it was the only way to save her daughter. But it had to be done.

"I never thought I'd see the day when my own daughter would embrace hate so willingly... I may be dead, unable to be as close to you as I'd like, but I am still your mother. I didn't raise you this way and neither did Elmyra." Her words were measured, said in such a quiet voice that Aeris could barely hear them. "Do you see, Aeris, what you're becoming? How far will you take this? What will you destroy in pursuit of your vengeance? You _have_ to let it go."

Aeris could barely look her mother in the eye. The truth stung, especially since it was a truth she desperately didn't want to admit. For her own sanity's sake she couldn't believe she'd chosen that monster but the evidence was all too plain. Her face crumpled and for the hundredth time that night she cried, falling to the floor in a trembling heap.

Ifalna closed her eyes and knelt down, tilting her head as she gazed at her daughter. She smoothed the girl's hair tenderly. Aeris looked up, her eyes puffy and swollen from crying, seeing the unconditional love in her mother's eyes. With a sob, she threw herself into Ifalna's arms and wept. She had been so afraid, felt so alone and lost. For a brief moment she remembered that when she woke the world wasn't so cold. That same world now seemed devoid of comfort, harsh and cruel and just plain wrong. If this was the way it had to be, how in the world could she go on? Without her friends... traveling with her enemy, who she barely trusted, sent on a mission to save the planet, again, and with an apparent new evil waking that probably wanted her dead. It would never work.

"I-I... I c-can't do this, Mama. I ca-c-can't..." Her voice hitched as she tried to wipe the moisture from her face. "H-hu-he took evah-ev-everything from me! I don't care if I chose him -- I can't, please..." And as she breathlessly whispered the last words out, she burst into another round of fresh sobs.

"I'm sorry, munkin, but what's done cannot be undone. This task has been appointed to you and if you don't find a way then everything your friends fought so hard for is lost."

"But I can't. Not with him. Please, just take it away. It's too big... I can't..."

"Can't? There's no such thing as 'can't'. You're not just fighting for this planet. You're fighting for all existence as we know it. I won't deny that it's asking too much of you, but it doesn't change anything. You are the only one who can do this. So, ask yourself, is your temporary discomfort worth the lives of future generations?"

"It's more than just discomfort! How am I going to work with him? He scares the shit out of me! This isn't going to work!"

"True, this match isn't perfect. But he is trying. I was doubtful at first, but... he surprised me and if you give him a chance, he will make a fine guardian."

Laying her head against her mother's shoulder, Aeris sighed; too tired to keep crying -- too exhausted to object any more. They talked more. About her power and how with it came responsibility. She was now connected more intimately with the planet than she'd been before -- as the first and last High Summoner in generations, she would need an extra punch to help complete her mission, though how she was to do this was still unknown to her. Ifalna indicated that she'd soon receive a vision that would direct her; show her what she had to do. Until then, she was to learn about her power and control it.

Hours passed as she relaxed in her mother's arms and every moment counted towards Ifalna's departure. Aeris enjoyed it while she could, it would more than likely be the last time she'd be content for a long time. The bright light of the moonstone soon waned and Aeris knew her time was short.

"So, what will you do?" her mother asked.

"What I have to."

"So, then, you accept everything now? Even him?"

"Yes."

Ifalna smiled at the resolute look on her daughter's face and the determination in her heart. Gone was the anger and though quiet despair replaced it, Ifalna hoped that through the journey this would change. She stood as the light from the stone flickered, her form quickly become more and more transparent. Aeris held back her tears, she'd cried too much today. She wanted to be strong for her mother now. To let her know she could do this. With a smile, she embraced her mother tightly as she faded into nothingness, slumping slightly forward as Ifalna's apparition disappeared, melding into formless mist. Holding the air, she wrapped her arms around herself, stifling a cry. Tears were useless. For long moments she sat there as the sun just crested the horizon, signaling the start of a new day, a new life and an end to the restless night.

Aeris opened her eyes almost sorry that she was alive but for the fact that all existence now depended on her. Duty, she had a duty and it would have to hold her. Stiffly, she stood and stretched the night's exhaustion out. She had to find Sephiroth; finally accepting that her hate only brought more pain and striving to put aside all differences for the common good. It was hard and it would take time, but she'd work with it. Or at least try. With little effort, she called to the planet to help her in her task, glad that at least one old friend was still with her.

She walked despondently out of the chamber, unsure how she'd pull it all together, if she could pull it together at all. Aeris let out a long, tired sigh and trudged onward, deep in thought. She quickly collided with a solid form, cloaked in shadow and directly in front of her. The terrified shriek she let out was beyond her control and she couldn't help but be annoyed and embarrassed by it. The man who was the cause of it seemed unruffled. In fact, he seemed calm -- too calm, almost irritatingly so. It was, of course, Sephiroth who stood in the dark in her way and she wondered if he'd done it on purpose. Why else would someone stand around in the dark like that, all quiet and broody, only to jump out and give an innocent girl a heart attack? Did he work hard on being that intimidating or was it just natural? By the slight smirk on his face, she realized it was purposeful and she scowled. Tilting her head up with an air of defiance, she primly straightened her dress before stepping away from him. She realized she probably looked like crap and the maneuver was entirely purposeless but it relaxed her. Crossing her arms, she looked him straight in the eye.

"So," she began, quite proud of how firm and unafraid she sounded.

"So," he repeated, his smile fading as if it had never been there in the first place.

There was a moment of tense silence where all they did was stare at each other. Letting out a short breath and scratching her head, she tried to think of how to begin. What should she say and how much should she tell him? She thought of a million prefaces in a matter of minutes -- each stupider than the last. Giving up, she decided not to explain anything at all.

"Give me your hand," she blurted out in the bluntest way possible.

He arched an eyebrow, though the rest of his face remained coldly detached. "Why?"

Aeris had never heard one word said with such blatant scorn. Without a word, Aeris unwound his rosary from her wrist and clasped them in her hand. She held it up and dropped them in dramatic fashion, the string unfurling from her opened hand and dangling from her fingers, clacking together ever so slightly in the quiet hall. He looked from them to her and back again. Not a muscle moved. His expression remained blank and for a minute Aeris was unsure if he understood her gesture. Lowering his eyes, he held out his left hand reluctantly. A small cough brought his gaze back to hers.

"What?"

"That's, um, the wrong hand. I need your right..."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it's tradition."

He continued to glare at her sourly, folding his arms over his chest to mirror her previous stance. As if somehow he could bar her out by holding such a defensive position. He wasn't going to budge.

"Just give me your hand."

"No."

"What? Why?!"

"Because _you_ forgot the magic word."

She rolled her eyes. "All right. Fine. _Please_, give me your right hand..."

"You still haven't told me why it matters."

"Why does it matter why it matters?"

"It matters because I'm curious and I'd like to know -- additionally, you seem hell bent on not telling me and I can't help but wonder why."

"I already told you! It's tradition!"

"Tradition I'm unfamiliar with."

"Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"Why are you?" Her petulant silence spoke much louder than words. "Is a simple explanation really so out of order?"

She looked away, huffing in nervous frustration. "We're supposed to wear the beads on our right hand because according to ancient belief it's the sign of good fortune and it marks us as servants of heaven; plus it completes the stupid ritual which we have to do before we can go on with anything else. Satisfied?"

He paused momentarily, wiping his hand on the interior of his cloak. After a fascinating few seconds of this, he grudgingly extended his right hand and moved closer to her. It took every ounce of will power in her not to move back and instead close the gap between them. Sucking in a short breath, she gingerly took his hand, focusing on it rather than the rest of him. The dark black number one tattooed on the back of it stood out against his pale skin. He was ashamed of it no doubt. Who wouldn't be? It marked him as property -- as an experiment.

Just then, something else caught her eye and she curled her fingers more tightly around his, yanking him forward to examine it better. Blood -- a small trickle of blood came from wounds of different sizes on his knuckles like he'd been punching a wall repeatedly. Lightly, she touched them with an outstretched finger. Her eyes met with his and she noticed that he hadn't even flinched, as if he didn't even feel pain.

"You're hurt," she remarked softly.

Looking away, he shrugged noncommittally. "Are you going to put those things on or not?"

Careful not to drag the beads over his open wounds, she wrapped them around his wrist. Biting her lip, she still clasped his hand in hers and stared at it. A war waged within, she'd never liked seeing someone in pain, even a monster like him, and though he didn't seem to be suffering, they were still wounds and wounds could get infected. But... she began to argue with herself but the thought fell flat. But nothing -- wound was a wound no matter who it was on and she was, after all, a healer. For her own sake and for the promise she'd made to her mother, she'd try to forgive him.

_Who knows? This might be the first step_, she thought, the first hopeful thing that had passed through her mind all day.

Quickly, she closed her eyes and prayed to the planet, surprised by the speed with which it answered her. The planet seemed to laugh at her or maybe it was with her, in any event, it seemed too happy and gladly gave her as much of its own resources that it could. A bright blue light gathered in her palm, and with just a small push it drifted to his hand. Small orbs of light danced around his wounds like twinkling stars, knitting his flesh back together.

He stared at her with undisguised awe. Her eyes were still closed and the bluish light of the spell had yet to disperse, a slight breeze ruffled her hair and she smiled slightly as her eyes opened. Bright emerald peeked out underneath her dark lashes and as they opened wider, he could see the life in them. Upon helping someone they gained a richness they lacked before, but once they fixed on him that life seemed to seep out of them. Despite this, her smile remained but it was forced. Roughly, he snatched his hand back, secreting any hurt he felt behind the same imperious mask he'd always hid behind. Perhaps he should have thanked her, it was the proper thing to do but words seemed particularly useless to him right now.

Another long moment of uncomfortable silence passed before she was able to even look at him. It was odd but her heart was beating so fast. _His hands were callused, probably from all the sword practice. Cloud's hands weren't as callused_ _but he'd always worn gloves. Maybe Sephiroth didn't always wear his all the time, but it doesn't make sense because his nails were so neat. Maybe he just clips them short to keep them from breaking_... or_maybe he bites his nails_. Aeris shook her head. Why was she focusing on such minutia?

There was a strange feeling in the air and both could feel the energy building between them. Another knot in the spiraling energy that connected them wove together, knitting their bond to each other together more tightly than it had been before. They both shuddered, looking up simultaneously, their eyes meeting. She wondered and felt insane for doing so, but she wondered if his heart was beating as fast. Goosebumps stood out on her arm and she rubbed them away before lifting it tentatively. It had been hard enough to put those beads on him. She'd been dreading this part of it and with little effort she convinced herself that this was why her heart fluttered so quickly, though she was surprised that her hand didn't shake at all as she held it aloft.

Tensing, she felt his fingers as they curled around her own, taking her hand in his. She chewed on her lip and closed her eyes, to block out all feeling. It didn't do much of anything and served to only heighten the experience. Without benefit of sight, all she could do was feel. The beads clacked as he wound them around her wrist. He managed not to touch her for the most part but for the occasional slip of a finger. When this happened there was a pleasant tingle as his finger brushed against her wrist. She was surprised at his gentleness, yet again. The way he put them on was careful, almost tender, as if he was afraid she'd break. In fact, he was so gentle that she'd failed to notice that he'd finished and was no longer holding her hand. Her eyes opened wide and she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. How long she'd stood there with her hand held out like an idiot? A small cough startled her and she noticed the slight look of bemused glee on his face. She quickly lowered her arm, blushing fiercely.

"Well, then," she mumbled, trailing off as she rubbed the beads on the rosary back and forth; nervous beyond words.

He stared at her for a beat, his face draining of any emotion before turning and leaving. She wondered briefly what he was thinking. How he could go from showing a tiny spark of emotion to nothing at all? She had tried to read him, to get a sense of his emotional state but his walls were too high, but he kept her out just as he had in the lifestream. Only here, he wasn't so vulnerable and whatever pleasant dance they'd enjoyed non-corporeally was long over. This was going to be hard. She steeled herself, knowing that this was likely to be the most miserable time she'd ever had. When she didn't immediately follow him, he called back to her.

"Are you coming?"

The words were said gruffly, but there was hidden softness in them. Ignoring how just detecting that made her heart beat faster; she shouted back an affirmative before running to catch up with him. Once she was at his side, they walked out of the chamber together to meet the dawn.

Sightless eyes from below watched the figures as they crossed the abandoned city. The early morning sun tinting the scenery with rose colored light. Aurora's blessed rays draping over the couple like a heavenly quilt. She was the first of four to awaken; timeless and created with one purpose. She had a special hatred for the planet, but it was in her kind's nature to hate life. The earth withered beneath her feet and she longed to feel the sweet despair of mortal death between her fingers. Since the beginning she'd slept, waiting for the day she'd be released. The first ones had sealed her and they had chosen this time to release her. She had never been one to understand them. They were as unknowable as the creator itself and twice as unreasonable.

Though she was curious why the first ones should summon that which they'd sealed. They who had separated from the light called her from the darkness -- they who tired of the constraints of earth and wished to see the stars. They broke away from the collective consciousness long enough to order the death of one of their own. It was laughable. Yet they were screaming now for her blood. She wondered what the others still loyal to the planet would do if they knew? Not that she cared much. They couldn't stop her even if they wanted to. They were dead, their bodies long rotted away. She wasn't alive, not in the strictest sense of the term, but she had a body and that was enough to separate them from her. This time, she would be unfettered. Those who split cried at her, threatened her with peevish curses to get on with her duty. They were the ones who held the whip. She was their servant. How very presumptuous of them. They'd have to wait upon her leisure; she was never one to rush a job. Especially one as deliciously innocent and pretty as the girl -- oh, she was a sweet piece of flesh.

She was hardly a threat, really, and she couldn't see why they wanted her death to come so quickly. Such a frail thing; she had no conception of her own great power, being barely in control of what little she mastered as it was. At this rate, she'd destroy herself before anyone else could get to her. It'd only take a small push, and there were so many delightful ways to play with the human mind, so many ways, indeed. She'd already set up a nice little game for the girl. It was only a matter of waiting for her to be ensnared. The best part was that the only one who could save her from herself she barely trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself. They were a mismatched pair at best and she had nothing but congratulations for the fool who had put them together. It made her job that much easier.

Oh, she could strike now. Devastatingly so but to kill the girl so easily really took the fun out of it. There would be no challenge and she hadn't amused herself in a very long time. Yes, she'd bide her time. After all, she'd waited an eternity and now she had all the time in the world.


	8. I Don't Want You

_Don't you ever worry _

_About everything you're not._

_Well, I've been fine this whole time_

_Here in your afterthought._

_--Common Rotation_

Time is one of the great constants of the universe or at least that's what we're led to believe. A man's life can be measured on how much time he's spent on things that either enrich or frivolously waste that time given. What possessed man to mark the hours of the day? To separate out each individual moment and give them numbers--is it merely an attempt to make something intangible less amorphous, a way to explain the unknown? Or is it far more mundane than that? We soldier forward regardless of numbers, weaving our way through the ripples of time until our life ends and time has no meaning. By the time death takes us, you have to wonder, did time really have any meaning to begin with?

It's interesting to note how constant we feel time is. We depend on it. To get us to where we need to go. Being on time is so important. We all live by the clock on the wall. It keeps us on task and there are some who wouldn't know what to do without it. That clock makes time tangible for us, and we all walk the constant turning of its numbers. Never questioning how constant time really is.

A week can pass in the blink of an eye when one enjoys the time spent and that same week can creep by at a snail's pace when one isn't having such a good time. The hands of the clock tell a different tale. It shows bluntly exactly how much time has passed but it's not in the exact measurement that man truly experiences time. Time is a relative thing. The truth lies in the one that tells the tale. The one who feels time's passing. The abstract counting of minutes mean nothing. The sun still shines and when it's done, the moon takes its place. The tide ebbs and flows. All the earth moves in rhythm with time, and no number can ever measure that. Only the one experiencing a given moment can accurately represent the faithful minutes that tick away their lives.

In time's honest measurement it had been five weeks, four days, six hours, fourteen minutes, and fifty-eight seconds since Aeris had awoke on the altar in the bowels of the ancient city. But it seemed much, much longer than that to her. Time, in her estimation, had come to a complete, grinding stop and she mused that perhaps she was trapped in some kind of bizarre between world. Where present, past and future all collided together. Leaving her trapped in this limbo to contemplate her life's mistakes. Or it could just be the overwhelming boredom of being in a city with nothing to do but think. There wasn't even anyone for her to talk to. Well, there was Sephiroth but he was hardly what she'd call good company. Plus, she doubted they'd have anything to talk about anyway.

Aeris was a naturally gregarious person, who loved the colorful banter of human interaction. She thrived on companionship. Without it, she found that getting up each morning was quite hard. Some days she contemplated just spending the whole day in bed but this was no to be. The thought was tempting, but such recumbence made her feel slothful and to Aeris, there was nothing worse than being lazy. She was a bit of a busy body, after all. There was a love of activity that was ingrained, making it impossible for her to sit still. It wasn't her fault the world was such an interesting place.

So despite her boredom, Aeris got up every morning at the crack of dawn and tried to find things to do. Right now, she didn't feel like doing anything. She was tired, bored and just wished that the planet would tell her what in the world it wanted with her. Because the waiting was going to drive her mad. The sun filtered in through the window, blinding her with bright late summer rays. Tinting the room with lemon colored light, soft and inexplicably pure. Aeris made a strangled grunt and turned over, covering her head with her blankets. She pushed away the urge to just get up. What was the point, anyway? She wondered if she'd been sent here to do anything at all. Maybe there had been no point to this mission. Maybe it was some sort of sick, cosmic joke that everyone else got but her. In her mind she tried to think back, doing a bit of mental accounting as she tried to figure out how things lead to this. Maybe she just missed the sign and if she thought hard enough, it'd reveal itself to her. So she pondered over the weeks of waiting and boredom. A mostly pointless exercise, but what else did she have to do?

The first night she'd spent in the Ancient City with her unlikely guardian had been a long one. Long and sleepless. They had settled themselves in the same shell house she'd spent her last night on earth in...the first time she died. She'd never had a terribly dark streak, but the statement brought with it a particular brand of morbid humor that she could appreciate and even laugh at. The joke was made funnier by the fact that she was spending the remainder of the night with the man who'd killed her. At the time she remembered having to suppress a hysterical giggle fit at the thought.

Neither of them had particularly wanted to sleep in the same house, much less the same room. Aeris cursed her ancestors for their open nature that didn't allow for personal privacy. There were no formal bedrooms. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a communal bedroom. She supposed if she'd been amongst friends it wouldn't have been so bad. It probably wouldn't be that bad at all. But with _him_...that was another story. The very idea of lying down in the same room with her murderer and sleeping...Yeah, she quivered with anticipation and predicted that she'd get little in the way of actual rest.

She knew very well she'd be more comfortable if he was somewhere else and she was sure he felt the same. But the planet had insisted. Pointing out to her with literally painful clarity that her guardian was to remain with her at all times, for her own safety. She could laugh herself into a stupor at the irony but for the fact that the planet had insisted loudly. So loud that its voice had reverberated uncomfortably in her skull, giving her a viciously painful headache. It was an uncharacteristic bit of punishment and for the most part, accidental, but one that she agreed, though only to herself, that she deserved. Breaking her promise to accept her duty with grace before even beginning to fulfill it.

She was mildly surprised to learn that the planet had told Sephiroth the same thing. The only reason she knew was that the planet had deigned to tell her. Though she was peevishly annoyed that he didn't seem to be suffering from a headache as she was or maybe he was and he was just hiding his pain like before. She wondered what he thought of the arrangement and thought to ask him, but something held her back. There was still an amount of fear that she held onto but she was less afraid of him now than she was an hour ago. Still, the coldly taciturn nature of the man was off-putting and the idea of striking up a conversation with him ranked right up there with willingly sticking her hand into a wood chipper.

Whether or not he agreed with the planet would be one of the great-unsolved mysteries of her time. That's the way she liked to think about it anyway. He hadn't commented on it and she'd be damned if she'd ask. The man obviously preferred to obey with quiet acceptance. He let her pick out a bed, making no motion to decide on his own. Remaining aloof and quiet, he stood in the corner of the room, his head turned away from her. Like he was purposely avoiding her gaze. She bustled about readying her bed and still he moved not a muscle. Just standing there with the same blank look on his face.

Wasn't he tired? After all, he'd clearly had some sort of adventure for his hands to be injured like that. It looked like he'd gone three rounds with a wall of ferociously vicious mud. Both of them were sopping wet, but he was wet and dirty. His light gray clothes stained an ugly brown, long streaks of it were splattered all over him from top to bottom. Even his hair was still somewhat caked with it. He even looked a little tired, not that she was staring but...Nervously, she summoned enough courage to ask if he might be sleeping anytime soon. He shrugged, mumbling in a low voice that he didn't need much sleep.

She remembered the information Avalanche had gathered on him. The scientific data stating that he needed little or no sleep to survive. Jenova's cells gave him a font of limitless energy, but the Crisis was dead. Aeris wondered how much of what he said was true. He said he needed no sleep, but it looked to her that he did. She was a healer, trained to recognize fatigue in her patients. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him and found that he did indeed need rest. Why in the world would he say otherwise? It was so blatantly obvious that he was lying but it was beyond her capacity to care why. Fidgeting under her gaze, as if he knew that she knew, he promptly exited soon after. She waited to hear the door slam, and she was greeted with blessed silence. So he hadn't left but he wasn't comfortable enough to sleep in the same room as her. There was a mild sense of relief that flooded her but there was also quite a bit of confusion. She had more of a reason to fear him than he did her. Not like she had a history of violently psychotic outbursts. Aeris shrugged, who was she to try and fathom Sephiroth.

She'd quickly finished up making her bed and was happily surprised to find that her pack with all her things was still there. Even better, that the planet had organized some kind of miracle and provided a change of clothes for her...and her guardian, along with a small store of rations that would last them the better part of two weeks. It was a meager gift but she was grateful for it. She quickly stripped down to bare skin, divesting herself of her wet clothes with a contented sigh.

The planet had provided her with standard heavenly garb, an almost exact copy of the dress she'd worn in heaven. Holding up the garment, she gave it a cursory once over. It was a long periwinkle colored dress with a mandarin collar and the overly long sleeves that were typical of most heavenly apparel. Two long slits also ran up the sides of the dress, another small marker that graced all heavenly designs.

The dress itself was made of silk, insulated with thick paneling on the inside of the garment for warmth. The sleeves and the front of the dress were decorated by delicate floral embroidery that reminded Aeris of her cherry orchard...the one she dreamed of in the lifestream. With a small smile, she traced a finger over the embroidery's fine edge. She had nothing but admiration for the craftsmanship put into the garment. They'd no doubt made this for her specifically. With the dress came a pair of simple heavy silk pants, as well as a long camisole and a change of underwear. All of which she was eternally grateful for, as the temperatures this far north were terribly cold. The real prize was the planet's last gift. Four pair of nearly new cotton socks and a new pair of heavy boots to replace her now sodden slippers.

She let her hair down before getting dressed. There was a brief wish that she had a towel to dry it with but such things couldn't be helped. She'd just have to make do. Wringing the water from her hair, she suppressed a twinge of guilt for dripping water all over the place. Leaving puddles on the floor had been one of her pet peeves when she still lived in Midgar. She had always been a bit of a neat freak. Again, there was little she could do about it, at least right now.

From one of the outside pockets on her pack she pulled her comb and began to work out the tangled knots in her hair. She grimaced as she pulled at the first knot, remembering her wish in the Promised Land. Ironic how just brushing her hair suddenly lost the charm and appeal she'd believed it to be in heaven. She wrestled with the arduous job until she was satisfied enough to put the comb down and move on to other tasks.

Leaving her long tresses free flowing down her back, she slipped into her new clothes. Glad for the warmth they provided, glad to just be dry period. Though she was a bit annoyed that her hair had managed to dampen the back of her dress. She let it go, grabbing a pair of socks and slipping them onto her feet. They were deliciously warm and she wiggled her toes in them to savor the sensation. It was always the little things that brought the most pleasure. At least, that was her view.

Aeris sat down on the side of the bed with a heavy thump. Looking at the neatly folded clothes that belonged to Sephiroth or at least that was her guess. To confirm her suspicions, she pulled out the tunic that lay on the top of the pile. Holding it up to her chest, she noted with a frown that it was bigger than anything she'd be able to fit into. Without a doubt, it belonged to her guardian.

Shuffling her feet, she knew that she should bring them to him. He was as wet and miserable as she, even more so. The clothes he wore now were quite possibly ruined. Instead, she sat on the bed and bit her lip, examining the tunic as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Cocking her head, she noted blandly that it was incredibly similar in design to her own clothes. The tunic was about half the length of her dress by her estimations, reaching to around mid-knee, rather than the floor as her dress did. It also had a high mandarin style collar, though instead of the delicately beaded clasps that she had, his were made of simple braided cord. Both tunic and the pants that went with it were made of a basic cotton fabric. Rubbing it between her fingers, she was dissatisfied that it wasn't of the best quality. It was good enough to keep the one who wore it warm but it wasn't particularly the most comfortable weave.

Everything about it was so simple. In the back of her mind she wondered if it was because the man who wore them was simple or that the planet didn't care about him as much. She was undecided as to which it might be. Not really knowing the planet's feelings, much less Sephiroth's. Everything about the clothes was plain, dull. There was no decoration, not even the smallest detail to give the garment character. She wasn't a fashionista, but she believed that showing personality through clothing choice was an important factor in one's self worth. That's why she'd always gone out of her way to wear cheerful clothes in bright, summer colors. In the murky dark of Midgar it had been so tempting to blend in. To wear darkly somber clothes to match the ever present gloom of the city. She'd chosen to go against the grain. To be a light in the darkness. It gave her confidence, in herself and in humanity's ability to change their ways.

These clothes were generic in everyway. They might as well have been a fast food uniform or the one size fits all jumpsuits prisoners wore. Everything was drab, even the color. The tunic was a light gray, as were the pants. It saddened her a little that she got a garment that was made with loving care. That had been labored over and made just for her...and he got...this. She held it up with disgust. It wouldn't even look good on him.

Aeris shook her head, coming to the realization that she was just being silly. Stalling for time because she didn't really want to see him so soon. She'd just sort of adjusted to her new reality. It was one thing to think of Sephiroth in the figurative sense. His name a noun like any other noun, it was just another word to describe a concept. Put that concept into practice...to place a name with a face and the rules changed. To have to face that reality, the reality that was Sephiroth...that he was her guardian. That was something else all together. She wanted to stay up here, where he was not and pretend that she was alone, or waiting for her friends. Any little rambling daydream would do to keep reality at bay but the truth was she would have to get used to having him around. He wasn't going to go away just because she pretended that he did...or that she really wanted him to.

"_You're being stupid, Aeris_."

Gathering up his clothes, she was careful not to disturb the neatly folded bundle more than she already had. Afraid that she might come across more intimate apparel, and the minute that thought crossed her mind, she had trouble purging it from her brain. Somehow, she managed and she quietly began to pull her things from the pack, laying them neatly on her bed until all that was left were her guardian's clothing. Dividing up the rations equally, she put his share in the pack along with her packet of herbal shampoo. It was a dry shampoo, made with ground peach pits, rose hips and finely ground oatmeal. With no shelf life, she had every confidence that it was still good. He'd probably have to go to the lake and wash the clumps of mud out and in a way it rendered her gift useless. Still, he could get some use out of it. She lay this all on top of his clothes and pulled the bag closed.

Satisfied that she had everything in order, she shouldered the pack. Underneath the bed were his traveling boots, sitting right next to her own in a neat little row. She grabbed them before exiting the bedroom by way of the small staircase. Taking a very deep breath, she walked down the stairs; staring at her feet as they moved from step to step as if afraid she might miss one and tumble to the ground. She tried so hard to keep herself from feeling this nervous. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, in blatant scorn of her wish that it would do otherwise. She could feel the shakiness in her legs, her palms sweating so profusely like it was going out of style and the way she kept pressing her lips together. Raking her teeth over her lips as she bit them. She chided herself, knowing that such activity would just lead to chapping but it was useless.

Aeris swallowed hard, desperately trying to wet her dry throat. Was it hot in here? She shook her head, determined to not be afraid. Her foot hit the last step and she slowly lifted her head to scan the second floor, breath hitching when she saw him. Immediately, her heart began to beat faster. Fluttering with the scattered pounding of fear that came unbidden in his presence. It was so hard for her to look at him and not feel that way. Her mind could command all it wanted but her body knew otherwise. Would she ever be able to look at him and not see the moment he fell from above like some kind of demented angel? "_Probably not_," was her mind's bitter reply. Unless by some act of God the memory was struck from her.

He was kneeling by the fireplace, carefully coaxing a rather cheery fire to life. Aeris wasn't sure he heard her and coughed lightly to draw his attention. He lifted his head, turning slightly before standing up with painful slowness. Aeris watched him carefully, holding onto her pack so hard that her knuckles turned white. Though he stood, he made no sound or gesture that vaguely hinted he knew she was there. He didn't look at her, his gaze shifted to the fire and he propped a hand against the mantle as he stared into it. She stood there for several minutes, staring at him while he stared at the fire with dull apathy. The light flickered over his face and what should have leant a warm glow to his features only served to heighten their coldness. She coughed more loudly this time, and the sound would have been comical had the circumstances not been so strained. Again, he didn't acknowledge her. His eyes firmly focused on the fire, an outright refusal to stray away from it to look at her. He blinked languidly, as if in deep thought and Aeris worried then if she was disturbing him. "_Best to get it over with_," She thought to herself, thinking she was very brave for doing so.

Quietly, she spoke up, "Um...I don't mean to bother you but...I found a change of clothes for you. And some food..." She trailed off, expecting now that he'd respond to her since it was obvious that he knew she was there.

There was no reaction. Not a muscle twitched. Not a sound was heard. Nothing but deafening silence met her words. His eyes reflected the firelight as he studied it and for a moment, it looked less like the reflection of the cheery hearth fire and more like the smoking ruins of Nibelheim. As if the town eternally burned behind those eyes. She suddenly wished very much that he'd say something. Anything. He could tell her to go away, to leave him alone. Even if it was an insult or just a grunt, anything was better now than this silence. When he was quiet, her mind was allowed to meander, to imagine things like that. Things that reminded her of who he once was and who she feared he still might be. It all made her more nervous and afraid than she was before. She found herself fighting tears again and it was only with sheer determination and a very deep breath that she managed not to cry. Quickly, she shuffled over to him and set the pack down as close as she dared to get. Which was around a foot away from him. Again, she praised herself for her bravery. He didn't acknowledge her movement. She wasn't surprised.

"Um...T-there's some shampoo...Nah-n-not that you're...dirty...or...but I thought." She paused, wringing her hands as she spoke, her legs shaking the entire time, "The plumbing doesn't work anymore...at least, I don't think it does. So you'll have to use the lake to get out most of the mud...but um...the shampoo, you don't really need water for...so...There aren't any towels anyway...So I guess it's up to you to decide if you want to take a bath...and uh...you can leave your old clothes here. I'll see what I can do about cleaning them...not tonight, obviously...but later this afternoon...maybe..."

No reaction. He stood there, statue like. It only made her more nervous. She'd never known silence to be so threatening. Kicking herself for being so timid, she probably sounded like such an idiot. Rambling away like some frightened junior high school girl. She'd always hated her tendency to babble when nervous but he wasn't making it easy for her. It was clear he had no interest in conversation. Neither did she really but at the very least she was willing to attempt civility. Rather than being angered at this revelation, she was relieved but his apparent nonchalance in acknowledging her in any way was nerve-wracking and rude. It did mean that she wouldn't have to spend much time with him in uncomfortable conversation but the uncomfortable silence was in many ways much worse. They had to work together. This meant that a minimum of work related chitchat was to be expected. His stubborn refusal to even speak to her, made her efforts at building a simple work relationship harder, if not impossible. She didn't want to be here anymore than he did. The whole situation made her uncomfortable, and she was sure he felt the same. Still, she was trying dammit. Would it kill him to try too? "_This isn't going to work_." She thought despondently.

"So..." she began, trying to keep the despair from her voice, "I'm sorry...for bothering you. I'm gonna go now..."

With a heavy sigh that was born from the burden she carried in her heart, Aeris turned slowly, her head hung low in defeat. Before ascending the stairs, she gave him one last backwards glance. "_I'm such an idiot_." With that thought, her eyes watered and she finally let a few of the tears she wished to shed shake loose. Wiping them away quickly, she felt her entire body tremble with the emotion she'd held back. She wouldn't break down, not in front of him. Even if he weren't looking, she wouldn't cry but her resolve was quickly waning. And just as she was about to turn away again and retreat back to her room, he moved and she froze in place. His head turned slightly to the side; just enough to glean his features from the tousled fall of his bangs. He didn't look at her directly, giving her a sideways glance as his hand slipped from the mantle. She held her breath, tears just barely on the edge of her eyes but she didn't dare move to wipe them away.

"Thank you." He said, speaking so softly his words were nearly drowned out by the room's ambient noise.

Strange, he almost always spoke with a voice that was devoid of emotion but Aeris could swear she heard appreciation and a hint of sorrow in his tone. It startled her, as much of his current behavior had. He was so changed that it disconcerted her deeply. All she could think was how and why. There was no explanation for it, other than he just was and that wasn't enough for her.

"Y-you're welcome." She stammered with equal softness, "Good night..." And as she said this, she turned and quickly ascended the stairs.

She couldn't get upstairs fast enough, yet her feet felt so heavy. Each step seemed to increase the distance between her and her goal. The relief to be found in solitude seemed a thousand miles away. There was only so much one broken heart could take. Tiredly, she entered the bedroom, briefly leaning on the doorframe while she quieted her heart. It was still jack hammering in her chest; her legs were still rubbery and shaky. Her mind was caught in a swirling whirlpool of confused and tormented thought. She knew focusing on her angst was doing her no good and so with effort, she pushed that mire of confusion away. Turning her mind to more pleasant thoughts, the same little daydreams that had sustained her in heaven. They were nothing more than mental masturbation. Completely useless and in some ways worse than her despair for they took her away from reality and reality was what she should have been focused on. Slowly the adrenaline let go its hold of her and she stumbled into bed. Just as she pulled the covers on, she heard the door slam.

That was the last time Sephiroth had step foot in the house. The last time she saw him up close and for a while, that was enough for her. She contented herself with her daydreams, wasting precious time by holding onto the past.

The days passed quietly. She had been concerned by the meagerness of the rations and had already started to supplement them by foraging. In the time spent with Cloud and the rest of Avalanche, she'd picked up a few survival skills. From Cloud, she'd learned how to set up the most basic snares to catch rabbits or squirrels. She'd already set up quite a few, happily using as much meat as she could when fresh and drying the rest.

Yuffie had taught her how to skip stones as well as the fine art of using a slingshot to take down small birds. Both Tifa and Yuffie had helped her out when it came to basic foraging. Which she was unnaturally good at. At the time, she hadn't wanted to hurt their feelings but she really didn't need their help...much. The planet was of immense help to her, allowing her to find buried roots or hidden groupings of berry-laden bushes that no other human would ever discover--even if they looked.

Cid, being an avid hunter, showed her how to clean her kills and dry the meat into jerky. Cloud could have, but he seemed too squeamish for the task or perhaps he found it hard to teach something like that to her. With all these skills and more, she'd managed to assure an impressive set of meal choices that'd keep her well fed for quite some time.

Without having to worry about how she was to survive, Aeris had plenty of time to think while going through the menial tasks of the day. At first, her thoughts strayed to her worries about Sephiroth and the task they had to complete. It did nothing but make her nervous and anxious. Those thoughts were quickly pushed aside as she saw less and less of him. From time to time, she'd worry that he'd run out of rations. That he might be somewhere in the city, tired or hurt or hungry but those thoughts were rare and any worry behind them was quickly put out by her more callous feelings for the man. He could take care of himself, having more training on surviving in the wild than all of the members of Avalanche combined.

Instead, she'd daydream about what her friends might be up to, what they'd think if they found her here. What would she say to all of them? How had their lives changed? She burrowed under the covers, taking a deep breath as she indulged herself again.

They were revolving daydreams of where everyone would be right now. Most centered on Cloud but she often thought of her mother and her other friends. Where they might be, the expected happy events and the happy endings each of them deserved. Realistically, she knew that their lives might not be so perfect but this was what she dreamed for them and dreams have very little to do with reality. She had asked the planet about them in her first week in the ancient city. Yes, she couldn't include them in her journey and she wasn't allowed direct contact...but surely, just knowing how they were wasn't asking too much. The planet had replied with a disappointing, yes. To know their fates would only serve to distract her. It explained that if she knew the slightest bit about their lives, it might cause her to stray from her path.

Aeris had tried to push it to answer; to give her even the most fleeting glimpse but the planet wouldn't budge. It ignored any further questioning at the subject, shutting off its connection to her until she changed to other topics. Normally, she would have just continued berating it until it tired of her relentless questioning and gave up in sheer exasperation. It was a tactic she'd often used before and had worked on occasion. As the planet's favorite child, it rarely denied her anything and in that respect, she was a bit spoiled. Aeris knew this but at the same time, she felt it was her right to know. She would have pushed the planet to tell her but recently she'd found it hard to hold herself in commune with it. It had always been a difficult matter to listen to the planet, she was only half cetra but with great concentration, she could clearly its song. Even with the din of Midgar around her, she could hear it, though it was faint. And once she was there, it was easy enough to speak with it. Lately, she'd noticed a change in the connection. It was still easy enough to hear but it was almost too easy.

All she had to do was think of the planet's song and the connection would be opened. On several occasions she'd been merely humming its tune to herself, only to have the planet suddenly questioning her why she called. That wasn't the only thing that bothered her. The voice of the planet itself had changed. It was no longer a tremulous whisper or a gentle chorus that she'd have to strain to hear. It was as loud as an operatic choir, sometimes so resonant that she was left with headaches that lasted for days afterwards. There was once when she called and it had answered so loudly that she'd fallen off her chair with a gasp. She had the lump on the back of her head to prove it, too. The headaches she got after speaking with it became more frequent as the weeks passed, so it was a rare occurrence for her to contact the planet. When she did, it was only if she really needed to and she'd taken to restraining herself from summoning it accidentally. She never thought to ask why the connection had changed, chalking it up to being dead for so long that perhaps she'd forgotten the strength of its song. So, with little communication from the planet and no clear sign of what she was to do, Aeris continued to dream.

Now, her thoughts turned to Cloud, as they inevitably did in quiet times like this. Day and night was filled with longing for him. Snatches of dreams and idle meanderings filled her time in between chores. For a while she'd thought so selfishly. Praying that Cloud held her in his heart like some kind of golden beacon, that she'd be his light that lead his restless spirit to shore. Imagining that he'd scoured the earth to find a way to bring her back and that any minute now, he'd come storming into the ancient city like a white knight. Sweeping her off her feet to that wondrous future she knew was beyond her grasp. Behind closed eyes, that future was full of such promise and hope, that she could barely stand to be awake.

More and more, she found herself wallowing in these dreams and each day, the wanting for that dream to be reality weighed more heavily on her heart. Because she knew that those dreams would NEVER come true and to constantly hope for them was slowly killing her soul. As wonderful as they were, they weren't fulfilling. They made her feel good while she was wrapped within them, but her troubles came right back when she woke up and she was often left feeling worse than she had before. They set her free and imprisoned her at the same time. No matter how many times she imagined a moment with him, a kiss, a touch, it wasn't the real thing. None of it was real. It _never_ would be.

And this morning, that realization finally sunk in. She'd run headlong into a wall and she could do nothing but stare stupidly at the ceiling above her. Her dreams were an empty house of cards, a hedge maze from which there was no escape. Any thought that she and Cloud would ever be more than what they had been was struck dead. Anything they had ended the minute he'd set her body into the city's lake three years ago. She wondered if he'd moved on.

Had he and Tifa finally gotten together or did he pine for her still? It was an odd wish but her overwhelming hope was that he'd gone on with his life. It caused her acute pain to think of Cloud and Tifa together but she _was_ dead to them. They deserved to find happiness and if they could find solace in each other, who was she to deny it? No matter how much it broke her heart to realize this, she knew--more clearly than ever--that they had to go on with their lives. Cloud wasn't hers to worry about, not any longer. He wouldn't come to rescue her; he didn't even know that she was alive. Most likely, he was with Tifa and they had resumed their lives without her. If she lost Cloud to anyone, she wanted it to be Tifa. They both deserved to be together, to find happiness. And more than anything, she wanted them to be happy. Yes, she wanted both of them to be happy. Even if he had pined for her, even if he wanted her back...it mattered very little. She had a duty to the planet first and the fact that she hadn't received the vision her mother spoke of was worrisome.

And now, she knew why she hadn't received it. The planet's vision had always been conditional and it would only send them when it felt she was ready. She remembered how long it had taken for it to send her visions of her first death. Almost ten years, it took that long for it to show her the end of her life. Giving her snatches of images and vague hints, only revealing the truth once it was sure she could handle it.

Did it think that she wasn't ready now? She'd held onto her dreams like a child's favorite toy and by doing so, she demonstrated to the planet that she hadn't accepted her role as its protector. Staring into the ceiling, her eyes bored holes into its slotted sides. This was her reality and she couldn't escape it by loosing herself in the hedgerows. She would never leave this city, not until she summoned the first watchtower and she couldn't do that without the vision. Her dreams had held her back. She was a fool.

How was she supposed to do as the planet asked when all she could do was dream? How could she show the planet that she was ready now? Without the vision, she was as lost as she was before. Lost, lonely, bored and extremely unhappy. Her dreams of Cloud had shifted away and she finally put thought to why she was here. Her only solution for the lack of knowledge and what her mission might entail was to find her guardian. And for the first time in as many weeks, she voluntarily thought of Sephiroth.

What had he been doing all this time? Just waiting for her to get on with it? In the last five weeks, she had seen him on rare occasions. Mostly glimpsing a flash of silver and gray from afar. There were a few times when she'd see him walking through the city, looking to be lost in thought. The minute his gaze found her, he seemed to disappear. It was an odd habit that had mildly disturbed her, because she could never quite tell how he did it. One moment he'd be there, the next he was gone and half the time it was in a place where there was no place for him to hide.

At the time, she hadn't be that concerned, at least, not enough to pursue him. He had his life, she had hers, living in the same city yet in completely different worlds. Sometimes, it was easy to pretend that he wasn't even there and that she was completely alone in the city. Neither had gone out of the way to see each other and Aeris began to think this was another reason for her stagnation. Nibbling at her lower lip, she furrowed her brow and frowned, carefully considering each thought as it passed through her mind.

Should she seek him out after all these weeks of basically ignoring him? It was possible he knew something she didn't. Her mother had mentioned that she'd spent a lot of time with him in Purgatory. Perhaps, she'd told him something...given him extra information. No, that wasn't possible. Ifalna had said she'd receive a vision. She'd said that no one in ten thousand years had done what she was to do. Though her mother had not always been totally upfront about things, there was something in the way she'd said it that made Aeris believed that this was the truth. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to ask him and even if he didn't know a thing, they could still search the city together. Surely there were things to discover in the empty capital that'd be of use and her mother had said that she needed to learn to control her power. She just bet there were lots of books or scrolls...or something...down there that would be of use.

That would mean speaking to Sephiroth and that particular thought brought her no joy but still...it was better than sitting around doing nothing. She suddenly had a purpose and it brought a shy half smile to her face. With a satisfied sigh, she pushed herself up and stretched, banishing sleep as she came to wakefulness. For the first time since she'd revived, she was actually happy and more like herself than she'd been in a long time. She was confident in her decision and though she wasn't exactly looking forward to speaking with Sephiroth, she'd avoided it for far too long. He was her guardian, and as unwilling a participant in this situation as she.

As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, a stabbing pain lanced through her skull. It had caught her completely unawares and she gasped, lurching forward as she caught her head in her hands. Underneath her fingertips, the veins in her temples throbbed and all she could do was hold them there, lightly rubbing at the tender flesh in a valiant attempt to staunch the pain. Slowly, she felt the throbbing ebb away. Breathing deeply through her nose, she staved it off and after a beat, she was assured the attack was over. She'd never been prone to headaches before and it puzzled her. No sooner had she thought that then another wave of agony hit her. It was like a rampaging chocobo had gone berserk in her skull, battering the walls of her mind until they were raw with agony. Digging her fingernails into her scalp, she whimpered and fell to the floor as the ache in her head sunk its hooks deep into her mind.

Images began to push themselves forward, ripping their way painfully into her mind, heedless of the agony they caused. She tried to set up defensive walls to protect herself but they were broken easily. Whatever fueled the vision cared little that it was raping her mind, tearing through her walls like they were wet paper. Smudged images of the ancient city pulsated, subsuming her vision and she stared at it blankly, emerald eyes gazing out blindly as they passed. It showed her the oracle, its point of view shifting as it drew her to the cloister near the ancient stone. Near the sixth pillar was an indentation in the wall, vaguely the size and shape of processed materia. Around the indentation were a number of drawings, mandalas like the one she'd seen when she'd freed Sephiroth. Lightly glowing around the indentation. Fingers of light rippled from the indentation as the vision crawled forward slowly and the solid face of the wall opened. A door. There was a hidden door--and it was only revealed and opened by light.

Another surge pushed forward one lasting vision, the pain behind it never ceasing. It was hard for her to hold her concentration beyond stemming her agony, but she forced herself to pay attention. The vision's point of view sunk to below the city. It showed her the altar, pivoting to its far side and lowering into the lake beneath it. Sinking deeper and deeper, until it revealed a darkened orb that hid at the very bottom of the lake. No more than twelve feet down lay the white materia, resting where it had dropped three years ago. It had gone dark because holy had been summoned and it was no longer needed. The fading picture rippled and light suddenly erupted from the dark green orb. The shimmering depths of the lake shone with it, illuminating the exact spot of its final resting place. Her mind overflowed with numbing white light and she shut her eyes against it, turning in on herself in a futile attempt to relieve her pain. And as abruptly as it had came, the vision stopped, leaving Aeris to shudder on the floor, sucking air in with ragged, breathless sobs. Tears bidden by her physical agony rolled down her cheeks and her hands still held her head as she trembled on the ground.

For a very long time she just lay there trying to regain her breath and her composure. Gradually, her strength returned and she sat up slowly, still shaking from the intense pain the vision had brought, hanging over her like a light mist. She shook it away, taking several calming breaths to help clear her mind. Aeris wiped away the tears, and pushed back her bangs with an exhausted sigh, gazing at the world with bleary wonder.

Well, now she knew what she had to do though she hadn't any idea that the vision would've hurt so much. Before, when she'd receive such guiding images, it had never hurt like that. They'd always been unpleasant in nature but never painful, more like very vivid nightmares. This had been an out and out mental attack; the vision had torn at the fabric of her mind. It was disturbing and she hoped that it was merely because she was unaccustomed to her power. She wished she knew more about what exactly came with the entire package, because nowhere in the deal had anyone told her about mind wrenching visions. Still, painful or not, it was a step forward and perhaps it was just because she wasn't used to her new power that it hurt so much. Maybe it'd get better as time went on.

She grunted slightly before standing and dusting herself off. This new turn of events was as wonderful as it had been painful. Now it made even more sense to find her guardian, as they could now get on with their mission. The idea of actually starting her journey and leaving the empty city brought with it many feelings. The most prominent being joy. Despite all her angst and bitterness at who she traveled with and the general conditions attached to the journey, she was excited by the prospect of finally traveling out in the world again. Years of natural perfection had her longing for the hustle and bustle of human life. She was ready to see new people and places, to find out how much things had changed while she was away. There was a whole world out there, one she'd barely had the chance to see during her first life and she was determined to take in as much as she could. Just because she had a mission didn't mean that she intended to let the world pass her by. Not this time.

Her spirits lifted and there was a spring in her step as she flitted about her room. She dressed quickly and the energy she seemed to lack moments ago had returned ten fold. Primly, she straightened her dress, smoothing the fabric as best she could. She'd taken care to keep both changes of clothes spotlessly clean but she was lacking anything to iron them with. So they were rather wrinkly, which bothered her. She'd always felt more confident when dressed well. Brushing her hair carefully, she pulled it back into a ponytail, though she didn't bother to braid it. Feeling more ready, she left her bedroom and bustled about the small living space as she finished up the morning's chores before she left. As she worked, she wondered where she ought to start looking for her absentee guardian.

It was with dark annoyance that she realized that he could be anywhere and she kicked herself viciously for losing track of him. Why hadn't she ran out and tracked him down that first day? _Idiot._ She'd let her fear get the better of her and now she had no one else to blame but herself for complicating her life. Frowning, she thought to where she'd seen him last or the places she thought he might frequent. Two days ago, she'd seen him walking out of the oracle's chamber. In fact, he seemed to hang around that general area a lot. With a shrug, she decided to set out for the ancient machine first which was convenient as that's where the vision had pointed her.

Finished with her chores, Aeris swiftly moved for the exit. By the door hung two bright red traveling cloaks, provided by the planet for their eventual departure. The weather was getting colder each day; she could feel the chill in the air. She grabbed the cloak and swung it on with a flourish. Her newfound joy releasing itself with every move she made. She was somewhat aware of the barrier surrounding the city, and the fact that they were unable to leave until they lit the first watchtower. Putting the cloak on was like saying that anytime now, she'd be able to leave. And she couldn't help but smile.

Author's Note--

HEY! This is actually only half a chapter. The ending point I had in mind for this took a little longer to get to than I thought it would. In the end, the entire chapter ending where I wanted it was fifty two pages long. I decided to be nice and break them up, because as much as some of you like long chapters. NO one wants to sit and read fifty two pages on a computer. It's just cruel. So the next two chapters are really only one. This is part one...obviously. SALUT!


	9. But I Need You

_Nobody sees a flower, really. It is so small that it takes time. We haven't time and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time._

_--Georgia O'Keefe_

It was around mid-morning by the time she finally left her temporary home. The air was crisp and cool and the temperature was punctuated by the icy pastels of the city. Aeris wrapped her cloak around herself, shivering in the pale morning light, her gaze shifting over the ghostly forms of the shell houses that once made up the abandoned capital. It struck her then, that the crumbling structures had once been someone's home. That this place that seemed so cold and lifeless to her, used to be alive. People used to work here, live here, have children here. They laughed and cried, made long term plans or no plans at all. It used to be welcoming, rather than foreboding.

She could imagine an ancient traveler smiling upon seeing the bright lights of this city when lighted and alive. That time was well and gone now. The only thing that filled it was a score of difficult monsters...and Aeris paused to wonder again. Taking a step and looking around, taking another and another until she moved in measured strides across the city. There were no monsters. She hadn't noticed it before because she was so wrapped up in dreaming. Where had they gone? It was a stupid question but one that had a rather simple answer. She hadn't done anything, therefore the only other person in the city had. Sephiroth had cleared it. Aeris couldn't imagine he'd done it for her, but he had done it and she had benefited from it.

It wasn't evidence of a change, but it was something she felt she could use to start conversation. Half of her nervousness of him came from the fact that she didn't really know what to say to him. This would be something she could use to start a conversation. Perhaps invite him to dinner or something, to thank him for what he'd done, however unintentional it had been. Even in her head it sounded stupid, but the wall that was between them had to be breached or they'd never get anything done. They'd just continue on like this, keeping each other at arm's length. Pretending like the other person was a non-entity. It wasn't like she wanted to be his best friend, but despite her reluctance...she was willing to concede that he couldn't guard her very well if they never spent a moment together. Aeris frowned. Gods above this situation was a test of her patience. She swore that somehow, somewhere--someone was having a very good time with all of this. Laughing their asses off at the pickle they'd put her in. She hated this. Tightening her hold on his cloak, she was determined and would not be put off by anything. Not by him. Not by her fear.

She had always prided herself on being the one able to start the unstartable conversation. Cloud had been a test of that skill but the final exam had to be Sephiroth. Who seemed to fashion being taciturn into an art. There was little for them to talk about, true.. and this did lead to awkward silences but she'd have to forge past that. Well, that and the fact that they'd gotten off on the wrong foot and she still had a healthy amount of fear of him...okay, it was more like stark, abject terror. And as she moved through the silent city, she could have socked herself in the face. What the hell was she doing? What was she even going to say to him?

Each footstep brought her closer and with each footstep she tried to think of what she'd say. Tried to go slower to delay the inevitable. The sun had moved higher in the sky, the cold pastels of morning giving way to the warmer light of the afternoon. Aeris was stalling for time searching the shell houses for him. She still hadn't thought of what she'd say to him while she prodded herself to just get it over with. Fear and loathing raged inside of her and neither one seemed to be winning. Boredom broke in and Aeris abandoned the idea that he might be hiding anywhere else but the ancient machine.

Her feet turned down the road that lead to the machine...it was an odd sensation, but she felt like she wasn't walking at all. That she was being pulled along, even though she knew very well that she wasn't. As quiet as she could, she entered the chamber and despite her efforts to conceal her presence, her footfalls still echoed loudly in the still silence.

Aeris was painfully aware of the sound and tensed as she scanned the room. _Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid_. She whispered it, hoping to draw strength for those words. The oracle glowed brightly, illuminating the dark chamber with dim, indigo light. Her night vision had always been terrible and she had a hard time seeing much of anything. She felt suddenly very small and vulnerable, and the kind of terror she thought was reserved for horror movies rose in her. Though what she was afraid of, even she wasn't sure. A monster? A man? The Creeping Terror from Outer Space? She didn't know. She just wished...she wished she wasn't here. She wished she were braver. She wished that things hadn't turned out like this.

And then she saw him...and the sight made her gasp in surprise. He sat serenely in front of the oracle, his form obliterated by the light that faded and revealed him. She couldn't see his face as he was turned to gaze at the oracle and not the entrance to the chamber. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his back ramrod straight as his hands rested in his lap--limp and relaxed. She dared to come closer, carefully picking her way across the oracle's walkway until she was on the platform with him only a few feet away. Another step forward, Aeris breathed in deeply, feeling very much like she was a little kid, stealing cookie dough from the bowl when her mother wasn't looking. That was when she tripped over something and nearly stumbled into his back. She stopped herself before anything happened, gasping at the sounds of clattering rocks and her own harsh breathing.

Aeris froze, waiting for him to turn around and glare at her. After a beat or two, when he did nothing, she resumed breathing again and looked down at what she'd tripped over. It was the pack she'd given him. She bent down to examine it, pulling open the drawstring to stare in wonder at what she'd found, the only thing that had been touched were the rations but the clothes and the shampoo stared back at her, obviously unused. Slowly, she turned her head and narrowed her eyes incredulously as she scrutinized him.

This close, she could see now that he hadn't changed out of the clothes he wore five weeks ago. They'd been cleaned, that much was clear, but they were the very same. His hair was mud free, but still rumpled and looking like it hadn't been combed in nearly forever. He hadn't accepted her gift. Should she be surprised? She was and it puzzled her. Even more puzzling was that she was actually kind of angry. Clasping the cloak she'd brought him tightly in her hands, she wondered if he'd refuse it as well. Damn him. She was trying, damn it. And he hadn't done a thing to make this situation better. Not one thing. The minor technicality of him clearing the city of monsters didn't enter into her mind at this point. She couldn't be bothered with facts. Already, their second meeting was coming off badly and neither had yet said a word to the other.

It didn't occur to Aeris that he hadn't accepted the gift because he felt unworthy of it. Didn't enter her mind that he might have been going through the same things she had. That he might have succumbed to despair as well. He refused a gift, but she'd refused him altogether. None of this came to mind, not even as an afterthought. In her mind, all she saw was his rejection of her kindness because he hated her. Ignoring the fact that she was the one who'd done the majority of the hating since they'd gotten there. All she knew was her own hurt, which she unwisely swallowed, thinking it better to put it behind her rather than examine it. She forged ahead and tried not to be annoyed by the fact that she felt like she was the only one trying.

Shuffling closer to him, she reached out and lightly shook his shoulder. It took every ounce of bravery in her to do that. She was shaking all over and her hands nervously played with the fabric of his cape. As before, there was no reaction and she fidgeted. Half aggravated, half terrified beyond reason. _Why did he have to make things so difficult_?

She leaned forward and unconsciously spoke out loud as she went to shake him again, "Why can't you just wake up?"

Before she reached his shoulder, he stirred and she snatched her hand away. He stood to his full height, his back still to her and without thinking she backed away slightly. He tottered on his feet, swaying back and forth unsteadily. She watched, fascinated by the display of the humanity she had been convinced he didn't have. He had been in some sort of deep meditative state and was still a bit groggy as he turned around and faced her. Another surprised gasp left her lips. In the half-light of the chamber his features softened, and his body was relaxed--free of its normal tension that made him so stiffly formal and intimidating. She didn't feel anxious or worried now. There was a peace that seemed to emanate off him as he stood there, with a look of utter contentment on his face, his hair glowing an ethereal white by the light of the oracle. Looking like that, he was almost approachable.

Aeris was no longer in retreat and made a tentative step forward. He yawned, finally noticing her from her slight movement, looking down at her blearily. She was shocked; not just by the yawn but by how tired he looked. Dark circles were set underneath his eyes, the telltale bruises made by pushing the limits of one's body and lack of sleep. Lines of fatigue crept into his face and he looked a bit pale, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. All the same. She knew exhaustion when she saw it. All of this together served to make him seem more human, less like a cold, marble stone. Her mantra earlier now seemed silly and childish. Did she really have anything to be afraid of? What _was_ she scared of anyway? Recognition filled his eyes and he finally saw her, tilting his head as if deeply confused.

"What do you want?" He asked in almost innocent bewilderment, and his voice registered the emotion.

Aeris gave a start and was only able to stare at him dumbly as the shock at hearing him actually emote registered. She had only ever heard echoes of emotion from him, overtones of feeling that could very well be manufactured from her own imagination. But she hadn't imagined this. His voice had always been flat and colorless, like he was bored with the world. The voice he'd just spoke in seemed more boyish, more human. It was the most emotion she'd ever heard from him and what shocked her further was that emotion had been confusion. She simply had a hard time believing her ears.

The Sephiroth she knew was NEVER confused or unsure. Of course, it wasn't like she could claim to know him that well but still. The man they'd chased three years ago always seemed so confident, he'd never faltered. Even when Avalanche got the upper hand, he still remained unruffled and his goal never wavered. To hear uncertainty from the lips of someone who'd previously only spoken with authority was astounding. Nothing short of unbelievable. In her shock, she failed to notice him approaching her as his head cleared, nor did she register the unmistakable annoyance on his face. He stared down at her, his arms crossed as he waited for her to wake from her self-induced coma and each minute he waited, he became more annoyed. Frowning, he snapped his fingers in her face, startling her out of her shock.

"I asked you a question..." He said, his normal cold tone returning.

"Oh...yeah...sorry..."

Aeris paused to gather her thoughts, finding the words she practiced had fled...finding it hard to even speak. Her nervousness returned and she secretly wished...wondered that if he'd step back a little, it might make it easier to think but she was too afraid to ask. Somehow, he must have sensed her discomfort...more likely, he was just uncomfortable himself, he stepped back slightly and gave her more breathing room. It didn't help much. She would open her mouth to say something, only to close it moments later.

Every time she tried to begin, she'd have to end it because everything that she thought of sounded stupid or childish and she couldn't bear to show him how nervous he made her. She just knew she'd end up rambling on and on like a complete moron, babbling like a useless child and she wanted so much to sound like she knew what she was doing. Like she had a clue what was going on. What made things worse was that he was clearly becoming impatient with her. It only fueled her nervousness and made it harder for her to think. This was doing her no good. She closed her eyes and took a very deep breath, preparing to begin again. It didn't matter if it sounded stupid, she just had to tell him what she knew.

"I came to t-tell you...I know what we have to do now..." She said with a firm nod, with a smile that wasn't entirely forced.

"How wonderful...for _us_." He interjected, his tone was calculatedly slow, his words sharp, sarcastic barbs, meant to drag across the skin.

Her smiled faded and she stammered, "W-well...yes, technically, it's not so much _us _as _me_...but...um...I was -ho-h-hoping...I mean, I came to ask if maybe you could...um...maybe...I was wondering, if you could h-help...because I could use...help..."

"Mmmmhmmm..." He grunted languorously and he looked away from her, as if he had no interest in what she was saying at all and was merely listening so she'd go away, "So, you're asking for a favor?"

"Y-yeah...kind of..."

"Kind of? Are you or aren't you?"

"Yes. I need a favor." She said quietly.

He grunted as a reply and she took this as permission to continue.

"Can I show you something?"

He snorted and shrugged dismissively, rolling his eyes, "Why not?"

She was trying her best to ignore the glib comments and the general sarcastic attitude he was giving her but it was becoming very, very hard. Some of her joy faded but she put everything she had into keeping her spirits up. She led him to the cloister, counting the pillars till she came to the sixth one. Stopping in front of it, she ran her hands over the wall, searching for the indentation she'd seen in her vision. Her fingers ran over the surface and where they touched, they left small trails of light. She felt light headed, the magic behind the door entered through her hand and she could feel it twisting through her...up her arm, past her shoulder, dispersing through the rest of her body. Whatever lay beyond was a well of power.

She was now attuned to it as the planet's song rose within her and she filtered the power back into the wall. Forming mandalas from the absent trails she made earlier. They danced across the wall, appearing and disappearing. She stepped back to observe them as they moved and transformed over the surface. Closing her eyes, she could feel the magic she'd activated, petitioning it to show her what she wanted to see. The mandalas lit brightly and once she opened her eyes, they swirled with purpose. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen and she smiled serenely, glancing over at Sephiroth. He watched the wall with a blank look on his face, as if he'd seen something like this a thousand times before. His arms were still crossed, his head titled slightly, like he was waiting in line at the bank. Aeris cocked her head, searching his face for even a hint of wonder. How could anyone be _that_ joyless?

He felt her eyes on him and it made him uncomfortable, for reasons he was unable to explain. Aeris could see this but made no move to relieve his discomfort. He glared at her, meeting her gaze and piercing it with his own. She'd made it so easy for him to frighten her that he was fairly surprised by the fact that his glare did nothing to deter her this time. She didn't immediately look away, holding his eyes with her own. Searching, she was searching for that scrap of humanity she'd seen in him earlier and something in her wouldn't be satisfied until she found it. And there _was_ something...a bright, brief flicker...that was gone as quickly as it came. She barely had time to see it at all before he broke eye contact, turning his gaze as far from hers as he could.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"...s-sorry."

Silence draped over them as the light coalesced to illuminate the materia shaped slot in the wall and Aeris smiled. She'd found it, it was actually there and she ran a hand over it to confirm it. The light rippled at her touch. It was real and she could only smile wider. Curiosity finally got the better of Sephiroth. He'd been trying to remain aloof and disinterested but he was impressed and awed by the lights. It was spiteful, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of his wonder, it was bad enough she'd seen him when he first woke. He stepped closer to the wall, and in doing so, came closer to her. His shoulder just brushing against hers, she could feel his warmth through the brief contact. It was odd to be that close to him and she tried to make herself smaller, shying away from him. If he noticed, he didn't show it, instead he scrutinized the indent, eyes narrowing as he gave it his full attention. The furious pace of his thought was obvious, his mind an efficient machine built for quick calculation. She could almost see the gears in his head as they spun swiftly.

"This is what you wanted to show me." He stated flatly, stepping back but still regarding the wall with a shrewd gaze, "What is it?"

"A keyhole."

He looked over at her in a businesslike manner, his face indicating he was carefully considering her words. Coming to some kind of decision, he turned back and stared at the indent.

"Rather odd shape for a keyhole." He observed it further, cocking his head in thought before mumbling softly, "Looks like a materia slot..."

She realized that last bit was mostly said to himself, but she answered anyway, "Because it is."

"Huh." he nodded slowly before looking down at her a bit disdainfully, "So what does this have to do with me?"

"Everything, actually."

He grunted, "Wonderful. So..."

"So?"

"What is this favor you have to ask?" He replied, drawing his words out languidly, as if he were too tired to say them.

"Like I said, it's a materia slot but not an ordinary one. My people used materia for many things before...This slot is a keyhole for a hidden doorway..." She trailed off.

And he completed her thought, both unaware of the momentary connection of their thoughts, "...That only opens when a piece of materia is inserted."

"Yes."

"Clever. How exactly are we supposed to open it? I have no materia...unless you have some tucked away that I don't know about ..." He glanced over at her, and she shook her head, "Well, then I'd say we're fairly screwed."

"Even if we had materia with us, it wouldn't open it. It takes a special kind..."

"That we don't _have_. The situation hasn't changed."

"Yes, we don't have it, yet...but...we will. It's right here, in this city."

"Where?"

"It's in the underground part of the city, just below the altar."

"Below it? In the water?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, that's what I came to ask you about. I'd get it myself, but I'm not a very strong swimmer and it's deep...and I was wondering..."

He knew this was coming and rolled his eyes again as he finished her sentence, "...If I'd dive down to the bottom of an ice cold lake to retrieve this materia for you..."

"It's not just any materia. It's the white materia...and yeah...I was kind of wondering if you might...would you? Please?"

He paused and pursed his lips as he made her wait for an answer. It was peevish and cruel, but he felt that she deserved as much for making him wait. The last five weeks had been dull and filled with nothing but despondent thought about his situation. His only comfort had been this oracle, as it allowed him to better contact the planet. Which he was delighted to finally be able to speak with, exploiting his new ability as much as possible. He sincerely believed he would have gone nuts again if it hadn't been for the scattered conversations he'd had with the planet. Though now he finally understood the words Ifalna has used in the lifestream when she'd saved his soul from destruction. _Indulgencia Per Modum Sufragii_. _Kindness by way of suffering_. He did wonder about the kindness part because the last five weeks were hardly what he'd call kind. At least she got the suffering part right. He let the girl stew for a moment longer before finishing his thought.

"No."

"What?"

He looked at her blandly, noting the gap mouthed look of surprise on her pretty face. Shrugging, he shook his head as if that explained it all, "No."

"B-but...We're supposed to work together!"

"Yes, and we've worked together _so well_ the last five weeks. What was it you were doing all this time?" He said, laughing bitterly, every word dripping with sarcasm. "Wait. I know. Dreaming of your little blond boyfriend, instead of finding a way out of this damned city."

He'd often thought about her during the last five weeks. Though he didn't care for the girl much, he took his duty seriously. Half the time, when he was communing with the planet, it was to keep an eye on her without bothering her with his presence. And the planet had been quite helpful, and talkative. It mentioned that it felt her to be wasting time, it told him what she'd been doing all this time. Not in so many words. It had indicated she was daydreaming and this was why they were still trapped here...Of course, it had also prodded him to make a move, to offer to help. But he was above begging that shrew for forgiveness that she wasn't going to give. This was all her fault; he had no hand in it at all. She was the one daydreaming and wasting time...and there was only one thing he knew she'd be daydreaming about. _That idiot puppet, Strife_. Judging by her reaction, he was correct. Her face contorted and the anger she hid so well surged forward.

"You leave him out of this...and I'm not the _only_ one who could have figured out...something." She stammered, knowing very well that there was no way he'd know how to get out of the city. There were her visions that lead them, after all but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right, "What the hell were _you_ doing all this time?"

"Waiting for _you_."

"...Yeah, well." She was grasping at straws now, becoming defensive now that she clearly had no leg to stand on, "Well, you said you'd help!"

"I said no such thing. _You_ assumed."

"You could do SOMETHING to help things along, instead of being an arrogant bastard all the time. Would it kill you to try!"

"No, would it kill you?"

"I HAVE TRIED!..."

"Yes, you've tried _real_ hard to pretend I don't exist, to put off your duty for as long as possible while you daydream, leaving me to rot. Then you waltz in here and act like I should be grateful to you for condescending to acknowledge my presence...and you call _me_ arrogant." He stopped, letting that one sink in. Smiling when she didn't have an immediate answer before launching into her again, he spoke in rapid-fire succession, his words picked for their clear efficiency, "So... you say jump and I say how high, is that it? How very convenient for you. And when you don't need me, you can just forget and ignore my existence, until you're ready to use me again. Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but it doesn't work that way."

"You're my guardian! You're--"

"What? Your errand boy?" He paused, his jade eyes narrowing darkly as he leaned forward, "Definition. Guardian. _Noun_. One who guards, preserves, or secures; one to whom any person or thing is committed to for protection, security, or preservation from injury. _Adjective_. Providing protective supervision; watching over or safeguarding. I believe I sufficiently understand my duty and as this task doesn't entail _protecting_ you, I hardly see how it concerns me. You want your little bauble. Get it yourself." He sneered, standing with perfect, still smugness, arms crossed defiantly.

She blinked away her tears and the rage that fueled their passage. Hating the fact that his words had some truth in them. It was like a bright lance to her heart to have him point out that she'd been incredibly insensitive. She was embarrassed and ashamed but at the same time, she'd rather poke out her own eyes with a dull pair of scissors than admit that he was right. It was outrageously crazy that things had turned out like this...this...this is what she had wanted to avoid. In her head it had worked out so well, she should have known that dreams and reality have nothing to do with each other. Dreaming was all she'd been doing. Even now. He had killed her joy...no, no, NO, she'd killed it. By assuming that he'd care, she'd killed it. By ignoring the rift between them and not fixing it earlier, when it wouldn't have been so impossible to patch up, she'd allowed it to wither and die. So, it was to be the clearly defined roles of summoner and guardian. She'd have to fulfill the parts of this mission that were hers, and he'd fulfill his. Namely, protecting her. Nothing more, nothing less. So be it. She didn't need his help anyway.

"Fine." She said coolly, balling up his cloak and throwing it in his face, "I should have known I couldn't count on _you_." And with that last little barb, she stormed off.

He wasn't about to let her leave without a word. She nearly froze as she heard his voice call out behind her.

"ENJOY YOUR SWIM!"

She shouted back as she exited the oracle, tears stinging at her eyes, "SCREW YOU!"

Aeris turned her back on him, wiping fiercely at the tears that collected at the edges of her eyes. She'd wasted too many tears on that man. Forging past her heartache, she left the oppressive dark of the oracle chamber and emerged into the bright cheer of the afternoon sun. It had made the peak of its journey and sat in the heavenly blue sky, an effulgent orb that mocked her with its cheeriness. The rays that unfurled from it brushed the roads and the buildings of the city a high contrast white that made them seem to almost glow. She squinted her eyes against the brilliance as she walked away from the oracle and towards the entrance to the underground city.

All the time, she tried not to reflect on all that was said but she couldn't help it. The argument turned over and over again in her head, like a skipping record. His sharp, cold voice and the clear reasonability of his argument hunted down and struck out at her feeble excuses for why she'd done what she'd done. She had ignored him. She had wanted to pretend he wasn't here. And she had been wasting time dreaming of Cloud. Damn him, for being right. For seeing clearly when she did not.

The less stubborn part of her felt guilty and prodded her to go back and apologize for treating him like a commodity. Elmyra had always told her the best revenge was treating an enemy like a friend. Showing kindness when none was given. But it wasn't fair this time! He hadn't even given her a chance to explain...she'd given him a chance, hadn't she? Again, the damned honesty of her character didn't let her own thoughts worm away with that excuse. She had to be truthful with herself... Ignoring someone for five weeks was hardly giving them a chance to do anything.

This was stupid. Things had gotten so messed up that she was now unsure of what she ought to do. No apology would fix this, no rambling explanation. It was too late for all of that. At this point, it was best to keep things simple. He wasn't going to help her, unless it was specifically a part of his duty. Therefore, it was up to her to solve things. They'd never leave this city if she didn't do what had to be done. It was well and truly time for her to grow up and stop dreaming.

Her feet crunched on the dusty ground, grinding her path into the worn dirt. They echoed through space and time, trailing backwards through the sand. Each step forward was one step back. Still, she plunged on, forging ahead and leaving him behind her. Going from darkness to light to darkness again, her bright red cloak billowing out behind her determined form. Signaling no defeat but neither did it claim victory.

Would this be the dawning of her new life, a constant state of stalemate? To walk alone as she had before, heart shadowed by unanswered desire and always praying for what was beyond her grasp. She begged and hoped for a different path but always it seemed she ended up here. A trail of empty dust made of her broken dreams. Her heart thudded in her chest; each step down the spiraling staircase of light was a counterpoint to its rhythm.

She sat down hard on the spiraling staircase before her legs collapsed beneath her, holding her head in her hands as she shook. Tears wetting her face, drowning her in an ocean of her own sorrow. She allowed herself this one moment of weakness now that she was out of Sephiroth's sight. But she was so sick of crying.

Once she'd spent that coin, she wiped away the trails and continued downward until she reached the altar and the lake that surrounded it. Just on the other side of the altar she could see a thin column of light that shone straight up, it was a beacon to help her find the white materia. She stared at it in wonder for a moment, letting her eyes follow the light upwards, stopping where it hit the ceiling. Cold determination filled her and she tore her gaze away and began to strip down. Leaving on her camisole and underwear, she wasn't without shame and though she knew better, there was a voice in the back of her head that worried _that man_ might follow and be watching her. She neatly folded her clothes and left them on the altar before hopping down to the shore.

Experimentally, she touched the water's surface with one toe. It was beyond freezing, so cold that it was painful and she quickly pulled her toe back. For a moment, that decisive pride of hers balked and she considered going back. But if she went back she'd have to beg and she wouldn't beg...not to him. Aeris stood at the water's edge, going over her options. Trying to convince herself to just go in, but it was difficult. The more practical side of her thought it was much too cold to enter. She bit her lip and let it flick between her teeth while she thought. After a beat, she stuck her tongue out and raspberried that sensible voice, setting one foot into the frigid water.

She gasped, sucking in air as the cold needled her flesh. Aeris closed her eyes and took a deep breath, plunging her other foot in. With deliberate calm, she slowly entered the water until she was neck deep. She held back the gasps and whimpers of discomfort, swallowing whatever pain she felt as the cold stole her warmth away. It didn't matter that she felt numb all over already; all that mattered was getting the materia. With a deep breath, she dove underwater and swam for the shaft of light. She could feel her limbs stiffen from the cold and she surged forward, ears popping as she entered deeper water. Her hair fanned out, swooping weightlessly behind her with every stroke. Eyes wide open, trained on the blurry light in front of her that was so close. She kicked down hard, almost ignoring how numb her body felt when the need for air struck.

It was a burning sensation in her lungs and though she was so close, within five feet of it but it was agony to stay down any longer. She pushed up desperately, lungs on fire, wondering if she'd ever reach the surface. It looked so far away. She broke it with a harsh gasp, coughing and sputtering as she tread water. Her teeth chattered and she could barely feel her body but there was a fire inside her now. She wouldn't quit, she wouldn't give up. Not until she had that materia in her hand. She plunged down again. And again. And again. And again. Each time, she came just a little bit closer but never quite enough.

When she finally left the water, cold and trembling, her lips a dark purple, her skin tinted blue, it was with a renewed sense of pride. This was her duty, her task to finish and by god, she'd do it and a new dream was born. She stumbled out of the water and back onto the altar, wrapping herself in her cloak to warm up before pulling on her clothes sluggishly. They clung to her damp skin but she was beyond caring. She'd worked hard today, nothing much mattered beyond that, shuffling out of the underground and into the city above she smiled tiredly. Satisfied with today's efforts. Cold and exhausted, her feet moved of their own accord, leading her back home out of instinct, towards her bed and sleep.

As she neared the residential section of the city and her own little home away from home, she noted the sun had begun to set. She'd spent nearly the whole day below the city. The sky was strafed with color, purples, golds and oranges. It was a serene end to a stressful day and much appreciated. Just as she felt her spirits lift, they were abruptly smacked down.

"Have a nice swim?"

She bristled at the sound of that cold, hard voice, which she'd come to hate beyond all reason. Her temper rose but she quashed it, not wanting him to see how much he truly irritated her. She turned until she saw the voice's owner. He was perched atop one of the shell houses, sitting on it cross-legged with an arrogant smirk on his face that was all too familiar. Looking down at her with imperturbable disdain, head resting in his hand, he waited for his answer, amused at her agitation.

"Yes, very refreshing." She answered through gritted teeth; glaring back at him and wishing wholeheartedly that she could pop his head like a grape with mind bullets.

"Hmm. Glad to hear it. So...did you get it?"

"No."

"Too bad. Better luck next time..."

This was too much. Her jaw tightened and with surprising speed, she dipped down and grabbed a stone from off the road. Whipping it at him as hard as she could, aiming for his head. He caught it one handed and with that irritatingly supercilious smirk, he laughed at her. Her face flushed with anger and she fumed inside, shaking with palpable rage. Eyes narrowed to fine, green slits, she turned her back on him, cape twirling behind her. She strode away from him, keeping her pace even to mask the fury she felt within. It wasn't until she was sure he wasn't behind her that she broke into an all out run. She hated him. She hated him so damn much. Once she got home, she threw herself on the bed and wept again. Crying herself asleep, too exhausted from the day to do much else.

That night, her dreams were born anew. Rising from the ashes like the phoenix. They were dreams of finding the white materia, lighting the watchtower and leaving her bastard guardian to rot in the city. If only she could see the look on his face when he figured out she left. This new dream drove her, pushed her constantly forward. With it, started a new daily ritual, an add-on to her normal routine. From that day forward, she'd wake early in the morning the get her daily chores done. About mid-afternoon, she'd strike out for the underground city and spend four to six hours a day diving down in the frigid lake attempting to reach the white materia, which she jokingly referred to as "bobbing for materia".

She got closer each day as her body became used to the activity but she was still a long ways off from retrieving it. This didn't matter to her. Sooner or later she'd get it, even if it took the rest of her second life. Her determination never wavered, despite Sephiroth's attempts to squelch it. She now saw him everyday. No matter what road she took, he was always there, waiting for her with a smirk. Everyday, it was the same thing.

_"Have a nice swim!"_

_"Screw You!"_

_Then swim for a few hours, get out._

_"Find it yet?"_

_"No." and just for good measure, "SCREW YOU!"_

_Then sleep and wake up to do it all over again._

If anything, this daily annoyance only served to light a fire underneath her. Making her furiously work for her victory so that she could rub it in his face. A month had already passed, which soon became two and Aeris had gotten used to the routine by now. She'd ceased to answer his caustic questions and no longer felt compelled to allow him to get under her skin. "_Have a nice swim!_" was now answered with a coolly regal glare, her head held high in defiance. She'd show him. After awhile, it worked. He stopped asking her questions altogether, instead he just watched her, arms crossed. The smirk was still there but she noted it lacked the vigor it had before. That fact alone resurrected her joy.

It was odd, but time seemed to be passing faster. Where there were once endless days that seemed to stretch on forever, now there were but fleeting moments. Each day had its routine but there was never the boredom she felt before. She had a real purpose, not just dreams. The world turned and time turned with it and soon three full months had passed since she'd awoken on the altar and she reflected on how much had changed and how much hadn't.

It was another night in the long history of the world and Aeris looked up at the sky. Another day where she exhausted herself beneath the city but the effort only made her feel more alive. Invigorating her, the tiredness she felt was the kind born of hard work. Looking out of her bedroom window, she gazed at the stars. By their position in the sky, she guessed it was August now.

By this third month, she rarely saw Sephiroth anymore. The game he played with her must have lost its appeal now that she no longer responded to it. She was no closer to retrieving the white materia but she was working on it. Getting better everyday.

Picking out the constellations from her window ensconced in deep thought, her eyes reflecting the stars dreamily. She'd seen him today. First time in two weeks. She'd been startled by his sudden reappearance. He'd gone from being absent to a constant figure in her daily routine to a lurking presence that she knew was there but never saw, until now. She'd jumped in fright, frozen to the spot as she stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back calmly, imperceptibly tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at her. Looking at her like he was contemplating something of great import. It unnerved her and she gave him a strange look before quickly shuffling past him. Pausing to give him a last backwards glance. He said nothing, just continued to gaze at her as she retreated, his eyes glazed in deep thought.

She'd pushed the encounter to the furthest part of her mind. There was too much to do. After bobbing for materia, she was more concerned with warming her frozen body, followed by a good meal...and perhaps sweet, sweet blessed sleep. These were on the forefront and having accomplished the first two, she'd go about complete the last task. So here she was, staring out her bedroom window lost in thought. It had always been easier for her to think at night. The day was always too busy and filled with lists of things to do. In the dark, there was nothing to do but sleep and that could always be put off a few minutes for a bit of self-reflection. She'd come to the great, obvious conclusion that she didn't understand him. Perhaps it was better that she didn't...but a scared silent part of her wished she did.

The stars in the sky twinkled and she felt an odd sense of sorrow encompass her. In the dark it was okay for her to admit there was a part of her that wasn't angry with him anymore. Well, not for the fight they had before. She was still angry at him for that other thing ...and there was a wish that was tangled up in all of that...a wish that she could fix things, some magical cure that would make things not weird. She really could use his help but as stubborn as she was, she'd never ask him. Day after day she toiled and she never came any closer. Sure, she wouldn't give up but how long would it take? The planet might die before she'd even managed to retrieve the white materia. What would she do then? The responsibility for completing this mission lay on her shoulders and she was failing miserably. She admitted quietly that she cut a pretty bad figure as far as leaders went.

All this was a mostly unacknowledged opinion that had formed over the last few weeks. Seeing him that afternoon had only jumpstarted her thoughts, bringing forward these dark doubts. In-between her vindictive imaginings, she found herself constantly questioning her judgment. The one thought she had turned over a thousand times and had never found a sufficient answer for tormented her. Why had she picked Sephiroth as a guardian? She had come to accept, begrudgingly, that she'd chosen him. The evidence was too clear. It wasn't so much the how of her choice that bothered her anymore, it was why, and she couldn't figure it out. There was no manipulation on his part; she'd even accepted that part of it, as insane as it sounded. Was there some kind of sick, masochistic streak in her that she wasn't aware she had, a desire to punish herself for some real or perceived sin?

Aeris flopped down on her bed, first staring at the ceiling before turning over to stare emptily at the moon out her window. It cast shadows over her skin. With a sigh, she gazed at her arm, as it lay bathed in moonlight. Delicate skin painted pastel blue tracing the trails of her veins over her skin. Her eyes drifted closed, watery light rippling on the surface of night's black splendor. A quiet smile graced her face as she let sleep take her. Painting her dreams on sleep's dark canvas, letting the watercolor images form in her mind. Shutting the world out, she retreated to her interior world, reading back the gospel of her dreams. Where she knew the whys and the wherefores and no matter how little sense things made, there was always some meaning in them.

Of all the souls in heaven, she chose Sephiroth. He'd manifested no signs of the homicidal maniac he'd been before. He was mean, rude and just plain impossible to deal with, but definitely not crazy. Her mind still groped for answers. Sane or no, it made no logical sense to choose him over all others. She could think of two other souls who'd have been far better choices than him. Why hadn't she chosen them?

She could have picked Tseng--her childhood friend and in her adult life, a man who hunted and protected her at the same time. He'd been as good a friend as he could, watching her back from within. Doing all he could to keep her out of Shinra hands. Conversation wise, Tseng would be no better than Sephiroth. He'd always been quiet but his company was certainly more welcome and less fear inducing.

Then there was her ex-boyfriend, Zack. Why not him? Sure, they hadn't always gotten along. He was a philanderer and could sometimes be a loud, insensitive jerk but he was also funny and kind, a loveable goofball that was fun to have around. Her mind turned on itself. Instead, she chose Sephiroth. Cold. Unfeeling. Inhuman. Malicious. Vindictive. Cruel. Did she mention cold? Why? Why had she chosen him?

It had come to her attention that she'd lost quite a bit more of her memory than she'd previously thought. Was there something there that she'd forgotten? Something that'd give her a clue to why she made her choice the way she did? She _needed_ a reason, needed to believe there _was_ a reason. Invisible fingers paged through the files of her memory. Pulling the fragmented pieces of a night long past. A night much like this one. Moonlit and star filled, darkness just barely pierced by a sliver of pale light. A confession in the gloom of her church, flowers bobbing back and forth to their own lullaby. Two faded figures, barely illuminated in the dark, shaded silhouettes outlined by a thin rim of moonlight. All blurred, a bleak Mobius strip that went round and round with no visible end. Moving flecks of color, figures made of dots and lines, nothing more. _They'll only stand out if you back away a little_. She told herself.

Soft voices spoke in hushed whispers as she backed away. Speaking of things to come, things that are, and things that have always been because of what had to happen. Nightmares realized. Dreams come true. A selfless sacrifice and the absolution sought through twin prayers from separate lips. Her dream-self stepped back further to get a better view. The flecks of color merged into a picture, a painting. No longer just blobs of nothingness that made no sense. The figures cleared as the shifting color took shape. The sinner and the saint. Martyr and murderer. An artistic tableau overused by so many pretentious art school students that she wanted to puke. Another copy of a great master's work, a religious icon to be worshiped and eventually hung in some art museum somewhere. She squinted--the picture blurred and cleared. Blurred and cleared...blurring...Was this a memory? Or was it a dream? Maybe, this was reality, like the old brainteaser. Was she a butterfly dreaming she was human or a human dreaming she was a butterfly?

She opened her mind to languid thought, allowing the memory to creep forward. Shattering the hollow lies she told herself since the beginning and surrendering to pure vision. The image cleared and she saw herself at sixteen, moonlight shining in naked, silver shafts. Someone lay in her lap...ethereal and pale... still in soft focus, she tried to clear the vision, to pull it forward. Floating inside herself, she struggled with the memory trying to hack through the shadows that consumed it. She had to see. The bright, clear sting of cold water hitting warm flesh broke apart her dream and rendered her efforts futile. Whatever answer she sought receded into the water like fine morning mist dissipating upon sunup.

The sun _had_ come up and its first rays crept into the room like a silent intruder, bearing away the night. She tried to stumble back into sleep and find that scrap of memory she lacked. Just as she settled back another drop of water hit her cheek. Then another hit and another and another. She shook her head with a muffled grunt and stirred in her sleep. Her groggy mind filled in the blanks, fitting information together. Water _plus_ dripping _plus_ roof with holes _equals_ it's raining and the roof leaks. She had been sure that her house had an intact roof but what did she know? Maybe it wasn't as solid as she'd thought it was.

She heard the dry rustle of fabric. _Was someone else here? Ridiculous_. Another drip hit her wrist. She whined incoherently, a high mewling noise that came from her throat, demonstrating her anger at being disturbed. She wanted to sleep, damn it and then she heard the rustle again. _Mom? No_..._couldn't be_...She was too tired for mystery, so she ignored the stupid rustle. Probably just the roof cracking before it collapsed on her. As long as it didn't interrupt her sleep, she didn't care. Several more drops of water hit her face and chest and she shifted, raising a hand to limply hit at the air. _Stupid water_! Something cold and wet was gently placed in the palm of her right hand. She groaned and curled her fingers around the smooth surface, not really registering what it was. Had the roof caved in on her?

"Oh...God..." was what she meant to say, but in the world between sleep and wakefulness it came out slurred, sounding more like, "Awnnnnnnhhhh... gaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh..."

She forced her eyes open, her vision still blurred by sleep's heavy dew. Blinking slowly, the world came into hazy focus. In the still morn, she could hear quiet breathing that was not her own and there was a presence not far off. Fabric rustled a third time and the presence moved away. Footsteps carrying them to the door, where they stopped. Through the fine mesh of her eyelashes, she could see a blurred figure pause at the doorway and before she got a sense of who it was, they disappeared. The door downstairs slammed not long after and she bolted upright at the sound, heart jack hammering. She was fully awake now and shaking, looking around the room wildly to see if there was anything out of place. Hand to her fluttering heart, she let out a high, hysterical laugh. There was nothing here.

"_That was one hell of a dream_..." She thought, looking down curiously at her chest. Her fingers had hit something wet...

Aeris held her hand up to her eyes. Water. Touching a hand to the front of her camisole, parts of it were damp. Her cheeks were moist as well. She touched her face and wiped it away. The pattern was irregular, as if someone had held a sopping wet towel and wrung it out over her head. She turned her head to look out the window, no rain. The sky was deliriously blue, the sun shining brightly out the window and not a cloud in the sky. In her right hand, she rolled over in her palm something smooth and round. In her palm she held the white materia, still slick and wet as if it had only just been retrieved from its resting place. Aeris gasped and curled her hand around the materia, bringing it up to her heart. He had gotten it. Sephiroth had gotten it and brought it...but why? He'd said. She thought. Surely, he'd done it just to mock her. Any moment now he'd appear from the shadows with a pithy insult. She waited. Nothing.

She swung her legs out and prepared to get out of bed. Her foot hit a slick of water and she stumbled, landing hard on one knee. There was water all over the floor, an extra big pool of it right next to her bed. She stared at the pools of water, frowning in thought, "_What the hell? Could've changed before he came_." She followed the trail, wanting to find him before he found her. She searched the entire house but he'd left nothing but a trail of footprints out the door. Sephiroth never did anything without a purpose and if he'd gotten the materia, she couldn't imagine it'd be for her. So why then? The only reason she could come up with was that he wanted to gloat, to lord over how much better he was than her. But...if that was right, where was he? Why...And suddenly, it didn't matter. Aeris raced upstairs, avoiding the wet patches as best she could and dressed quickly, not bothering with her normal routines. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair unbound...the little things didn't matter at the moment. She had to find him. There wasn't any concrete reasoning...she just...It was the right thing to do. Whatever his reasoning, he'd done her a favor. Even if he wanted to mock her, so be it. Clutching the materia in her hand, she ran out the door, putting her cloak on as she went.

Aeris burst outside, immediately staring at the ground, looking futilely for his footsteps and finding only dust. For a panicked moment, she stood there like a gap mouthed fool looking around at a loss for what to do before her brain kicked in and she could think again. Her feet dug into the ground as she pounded thunderously towards the ancient machine, running across the city as fast as her legs could carry her. Noisily, she entered the oracle's chamber, calling out Sephiroth's name breathlessly. The only thing that answered was the sound of her own empty echoes. Chest heaving, she leaned against a wall to catch her breath, holding her aching side. She coughed and massaged the pain in her side as she tiredly walked forward. Perhaps he was meditating again. Holding out a hand, she willed the oracle to life, soft white light soon illuminated the chamber. Nothing. He'd left. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling bleakly, hitting her thigh with her balled fist. Now she'd have to search building to building. This was getting her nowhere fast.

And suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She was in the chamber now, the hidden door was right there. It would be a simple matter for her to open it and light the watchtower. So simple. She could finish her task and leave tonight, and he'd never be the wiser. That was her dream but...

Her hand tightened around the white materia as her breathing became slow and measured. She held up her hand and looked at it, as if asking it what she should do. It flared with life, glowing brightly as light flickered between her fingers. The light reflected in her eyes and her features softened as she cradled the materia in her palm. Each finger curled over the orb with deliberate grace as she held it to her heart. With a gentle sigh, she closed her eyes and petitioned the planet to help her find Sephiroth. It answered with quiet care, sending her warm tendrils of affection from the core of its being. She only winced a little, now more accustomed to the volume of its song. It had been too long since they'd last spoken. Without a need for explanation, the planet helped her to guide the oracle's vision. For the first time, she felt the true measure of the power she possessed. As easy as if she'd used her own hand, she reached out into the lifestream and pulled it forward. The chamber suffused with light as tendrils of its power lifted from the ground. Dancing around the oracle and the one who summoned it. Aeris stood stock-still, her hair undulating in a wind that came from nowhere.

She held out her hand and opened it, the white materia lifting off her palm, just barely hovering above it. Culling from memory an image of the map of the universe she'd seen in Cosmo Canyon. The universe exploded from the crystal, stars and planets surrounding her like a vast and sparkling sea of black. Opening her eyes, she pushed past the stars and the planets until they blurred into infinitesimal white streaks. She formed her will but it was hard to grasp; the experience was intense and terrifying. The magic she felt flow through her was primal...untamed and it struggled wildly for a way to unleash itself. There was a feeling that any moment, she'd lose control. It was too much. No mortal body was meant to bear this and it was only with the planet's guiding hand that she did not. They became as one and together they narrowed the search. From universe wide, to planet, to hemisphere, to continent, to region, and finally to city, until the small, green dot that represented him burned brightly on the map. Aeris felt her control slip briefly and as the spell came to an end, a thin fracture broke the surface of the oracle.

The white materia's glow slowly went out and returned to its place in her palm. With a shuddering gasp, she let go of her hold over the lifestream and clasped her materia in her hand tightly. Thanking the planet as she felt it recede into its heart, it sent to her its everlasting love and she smiled softly. Before it slipped away completely, it let her know that it could not help her like this again. It didn't need to give more of an explanation, Aeris understood now all too well. The chamber darkened and Aeris was left in the dim light, panting heavily with a light slick of sweat on her forehead. She wiped it away, exhaling in one, long breath. Staring at the fracture, she could still feel the pulse of the untamed power she summoned and she was afraid. She had to find Sephiroth. It was now less a task she felt she had to because of some obligation. This was no wish, no want, it was a need, something necessary. It was an instinct almost; she needed him like she needed air or food and water to live. This revelation startled and frightened her deeply but she obeyed nonetheless.

Exiting the oracle, she walked towards the building she'd seen on the map. Her body was too tired from exertion to do otherwise. She'd spent quite a bit of energy on that last little trick. Coming to a small house on the west side of the city, near the entrance to the sleeping forest. Rolling the white materia between her fingers, she became nervous. Her palms were sweating and she nibbled anxiously on her lip. With a foot stomp, she banished it by force of will. This fear was stupid and pointless and she'd had enough of it. Without hesitation, she walked up to the door and knocked on it lightly. No answer. She tried again. Again, no answer.

Undeterred, she opened the door and stepped inside. Nothing looked disturbed and for a minute, Aeris wondered if she'd gone into the wrong house. Maybe they'd been mistaken when they pinpointed his location, it _was_ the first time she'd used her power.

"Hello?" She asked, feeling a bit silly as she closed the door behind her. Entering the living space a bit further, she called again more quietly than she intended, "Sephiroth?"

The house was as silent as a grave and Aeris was afraid to disturb it with further noise. Light filtered through the holes in the roof, motes of dust dancing through the shafts like glittering bits of gold dust. The gloom of the building was penetrated, making it seem less menacing and more magical. Like a realm unto itself. It was moments like these that she wished she had a camera. She heard movement upstairs and curiously, she moved forward. With quiet grace, she followed the noise, being extra careful with her steps as she braced her hand against the wall to steady her ascension. Leave it to him to pick the most run down house in the city. She picked her way around a bit of debris, smiling to herself for not being a total klutz, like usual. Holding up her dress, she maneuvered around the fallen timbers, her eyes focused on her feet and not what was in front of her as she moved up. She turned the corner and entered the small bedroom, her eyes lifting off the floor and into the room. Upon looking up, she confronted with a sight she was unprepared for.

Sunlight shone openly from the large hole in the roof, bathing the small room with light. He stood in a patch of this light, a pale form blazing like fire and the sight transfixed her. He was a brightly burning seraph. A celestial body somehow brought to earth, as holy as the materia she clutched in her hand, but endlessly more terrifying, God's wrath given human shape and a will of its own.

The light shifted and the image that filled her eyes faded and the man that stood before her was just that, a man. His hair was sopping wet, leaving long trails of glistening moisture that beaded on his pale skin. Running down his back in shining rivulets. He had apparently just taken off his tunic, which lay wet on the floor. Stretching, he reached back and grabbed his hair, wringing it out, the water slapping unceremoniously on the floor. It was then that she remembered to blink. This was something she wasn't supposed to be seeing. He bent down to dig in the pack she'd given him, she found that her feet had become quite stubborn and had refused to move. She looked away, sure that her cheeks now glowed a bright technicolor red. What should she do? Swallowing hard, Aeris decided that leaving was a pretty good idea, if a bit terrifying. She wondered if she could do it without making any noise. Yes, she could, she had to. She would come back later, when he was more dressed and less wet. Ordering her recalcitrant feet to move, she held her breath as she tried to slip away quietly.

"Leaving so soon?"

"..._crap_..." she whispered to herself, squinting her eyes and grimacing.

She'd been caught. Slowly she turned around, and glanced at him. _Yup, still no shirt_. Her eyes widened and held up a hand to shield herself from the sight.

"Oh...god...I...I...I...um..."

"Get a good look?" he snarled acidly. "I don't know why you're being so bashful now..."

Her cheeks burnt with heat as her face flushed. He'd known she was there the entire time. She had never been so embarrassed in her whole life.

"I wasn't...I didn't mean to..." She stammered out, her hand still shielding her eyes as she backed away to attempt a hasty exit, "...I'm going to go now..."

"Oh, for god's sake, woman! You might as well stay and tell me what the hell it is you want!" He snapped, his exasperated tone was authoritative enough to halt her flight.

"But...uh...but...um..." She said, stumbling dumbly over her words, her back turned to him.

He grumbled to himself quietly and she heard the rustle of fabric being pulled over skin. There was small comfort in the fact that she couldn't hear what he said. Dear God, she just wanted to leave.

"You can turn around now, it's safe."

Her cheeks flared an even brighter shade of red as she turned. She looked down at her hands, finding herself unable to look him straight in the eye yet. To calm her nerves, she rolled the white materia from one hand to the other. Somewhere along the line her voice had fled and she could not come up with any words that would sound even semi-coherent.

"I'm waiting..."

"S-sorry..." She whispered, daring to glance up at him.

He gazed back at her detachedly; tired of useless apologies and wishing she'd just get on with it. The only annoying side effect of her fear was the damned endless stuttering. He'd pay good money for just one complete sentence from the girl.

"First off, I'm SO sorry...I didn't mean to walk in when...y-you were...yuh-you know..." She sputtered out, trailing off and flailing her hands in absent explanation.

"Yes, because knocking on doors is just one of those crazy fads..." He mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear.

"I did. No one answered."

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever." He replied flippantly, "What the hell do you want?"

"I came to thank you..." she said quietly, holding out her hand and opening it to reveal the white materia, all the while she refused to meet his gaze, "For this..."

Her entire demeanor changed once her hand opened, from embarrassed tension to a sorrowful pensiveness that greatly unnerved the former general. Not only because it was so sudden, but there was something else, a shy vulnerability that she hadn't shown in his presence thus far. There was none of the fiery independence she'd shown earlier. Her manner now spoke of a need for comfort..._This_ was downright disturbing. Protection he could deal with, but he would be no one's caretaker. If she was looking for comfort, she wouldn't find it in him.

"No thanks are necessary. I merely wished to leave this city before we both grow old and die."

"...I know." She replied gently, raising her eyes to his, piercing them with her wide-eyed gaze, "But thank you anyway."

He cocked his head slightly, examining her suspiciously to determine what this new game might be. She didn't look away as he expected her to, meeting his eyes directly and holding them there. And in those emerald pools, he saw sincerity and something else. Fear, but not of him. _Strange_. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he watched her carefully. She'd be waiting forever for him to say that she was welcome...he was no hand holder, no shoulder to cry on. He kept his gaze cold and calculating, waiting for it to take effect. The girl didn't move. She hadn't required such an obvious hint before. What was she waiting for? The abrupt change bothered him more and more each minute. Made him uneasy enough to break eye contact with her.

"Anything else?"

"Yes..." She paused, rolling the materia in her palm idly as she began, "The last few months...have been difficult. I don't like you. You don't like me. We haven't really been working together like we should and most of the fault rests with me...But we were sent here for a reason... so...I wanted to say, I'm sorry..."

"Is that all?" He snapped, irate that she apologized to him _again_.

"No. I was wondering if you'd please come with me to open up that door I showed you. Seeing as you got the materia that opens it, it's only fair. Of course, if you don't want to, that's alright and I can do it on my own...but...I wouldn't mind the company..."

She took one long, shaky breath, pleased that she managed to get that out without stuttering like a fool. Looking at him through her bangs, she waited. He glared at her with arms crossed, though he looked more speculative than annoyed. Several minutes of this quiet contemplation passed, a tête-à-tête without words. He was wearing the change of clothes she'd given him. A small smile curved on her face, she was wrong again. "_Irony!_" she mused to herself, "_He does look good in them._" The thought was ridiculous and silly and she had no idea where it came from. But it was funny, and right now...she really needed to laugh no matter how inappropriate it might be. She felt a giggle fit coming on and had to bite her lip to contain the vicious peals of laughter that threatened to break free. He apparently didn't notice or didn't care and after a beat, he came to a decision. Straightening his back so that he stood at his full height, he uncrossed his arms and nodded towards the exit.

"Lead the way."

Aeris smiled timidly before turning to exit. Things might just work out and for the moment she forgot the fear she felt in the oracle chamber. The primal forces within her had quieted in his presence, and a tentative calm has settled upon her, though she didn't care to notice much less acknowledge it. She took the sudden serenity she felt was as a result of finally succeeding at something, beginning her journey and not wasting time. The dreamer had awakened in more ways than one.


	10. The Color of Infinity

_The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly--that is what each of us is here for._

_--Oscar Wilde_

"Sephiroth...." the voice called but he paid no heed.

"....Sephiroth...." the same voice sung softly, lilting and endlessly gentle.

It was met with a similar response, much to his companion's amusement. The silver haired man stared blankly into space, eyes gazing at some point in the distance. His mind pitched far away, submerged deep within his own consciousness. His companion chuckled lightly, having noticed the increase in such episodes.

She found it humorous that one person could have changed so radically and yet somehow remain the same. It was heartening to see that there were some things that would never change. Even after all that had happened to him, she could see the flickers of that little boy she knew so long ago. Somewhere buried deep inside was that dreaming child, a cherub disguised as human. He stared out at her sometimes, with eyes that still saw wonder in the world. His fey features unmarred by life's cruelty, before he learned how unfair the world really could be, before his innocence had been wrested from him.

It gave her hope for him and made her believe that her efforts might yield results. His innocence had taken quite a beating and if the mental torture he'd endured was visible, he'd be a mass of scar tissue. One look deep into his eyes told her that. He'd never been the hardiest of souls. What many people didn't see was that despite his physical strength, Sephiroth could quite easily be wounded. His mind was his weakness, being at its very best extremely fragile. Having been manhandled for the last twenty five years, there was little left in him now except for anger and the pain that caused it.

Underneath all that, in the very darkest of corners was a light that represented the last of his innocence. After being dormant for so long, it made occasional appearances and her heart leapt in joy whenever she spotted it. It was what kept the human part of him alive and his sanity hinged on its existence. That innocence had survived Jenova, his time in Shinra and his horrible childhood. There were more tests in store for it, her job now was to strengthen it so that it no longer flickered, but burnt brightly. She saw that each day it had become that much stronger, burning slightly brighter as the days passed and hope was given to him.

He'd learned so much in so little time. It was hard to believe how far he'd come. The belligerent facade had fallen almost immediately. In its place was this quiet, contemplative man, who'd often lose himself in thought. It was a complete turnaround and Ifalna couldn't be prouder of him. In human terms, it had been around six months since their first meeting. The strides he had made in that short time where enormous, even for him. Improvement came on a daily basis, even though she could see it was hard for him but that was to be expected. She couldn't imagine what he'd be like given more time. Ifalna smiled and snapped her fingers near his ear.

"What?" Sephiroth asked breathlessly, shaking his head, startled by the sound.

"You were daydreaming..."

"Oh..."

Daydreaming, again. It disturbed him. More feelings returned to him. Some were emotions he'd had little experience with and he'd had trouble dealing with them. He felt more human and with this feeling came the equally disturbing disorganization of thought. Manifesting itself in these daydreams. His mind wandered freely and he was unaccustomed to it. Gone was the single minded focus he'd depended on. There was no longer another consciousness guiding his thought. His mind was his own and while it was a good thing for the most part, there were times when he resented it. Especially on the days when he struggled with his emotions and memories stalked forward, exposing new wounds to the air.

His mother had helped him deal with it as best she could. Explaining with scientific clarity how life as a human being worked. She answered his questions simply, and shared with him ways to deal with the pain. The thing that helped the most was her silent support of him. She never said anything but he felt cared for all the same. It was enough to keep him moving forward.

Ifalna rarely came but when she did it was with specific purpose. She'd lead him back into that forest. Showing him scraps of memory whether he wanted her to or not, talking to him the entire time. Her explanations were more formless than his mother's and left him with more questions than answers.

He guessed, correctly, that this was her intent, and though it did annoy him, he understood the purpose behind it. She wanted him to question the choices he made, to show him different points of view. It was a common teaching technique which he'd used to effect when still sane and in command of Shinra's army. Though her approach was with less logic and more emotion, rather than asking how he could have done things different, she'd ask how he felt about it. Have him examine and explain his feelings.

He'd followed so blindly his whole life, always looking at things from a detached third party perspective. Sometimes the way he talked about his own life seemed more like the accounts of an observer, like he wasn't there at all. She wanted to instill in him the desire to follow his own path. Allow him to live his life as himself and not a stranger looking in on a world he couldn't participate in.

Even now, his decision to undertake redemption had been forced on him. She had started to nudge him into the notion of wanting it for himself. Not because she threatened him with hellfire. Or because he felt he owed it to anyone but because he genuinely wanted to be forgiven. This was the key to his recovery. If he had no real wish to be redeemed, he'd begin to resent his task.

So, they talked over the events of his life. At first, he was reluctant but when he saw Ifalna wasn't there to judge, he opened up. She was an excellent listener, letting him explain without interruption exactly why he did what he did, occasionally helping him articulate his feelings when words failed him. These talks helped him understand himself more. It quieted the rage that had consumed him, taking its energy and redirecting it into healing wounds. He felt more at peace than he could remember. The restlessness in his character disappeared almost entirely, as he finally had answers that satisfied him.

The day came when he was ready to know how and why he was here. To find out the reason he'd been given a second chance. Ifalna began to explain slowly, still unsure if he was listening. He'd heard every word. Memorized them.

Sephiroth had been granted a very rare gift. Heaven made allowances for souls who sinned in error. It was called Plenary Indulgence, and it was an old institution but hardly ever invoked. Either because those deserving it didn't know of its existence or if they did, they didn't know how to go about asking for it. Lucky for him, her daughter had known and had enacted the first step before passing.

_To be redeemed in threes they come from hearts in different realms. _

_From these three prayers a sinner has one chance to be a saint._

_If heathen sinner's worth prove true, the fire burns earthly taint. _

_An arbiter from heaven comes, to speak for sinner's soul. _

_And this is how by heaven's will a sinner be redeemed._

_Through purgatorial fire test kindness by way of suffering._

Most people in his situation were very lucky to receive a single prayer, much less three from the correct planes of existence. She told him she was quite surprised to see the request, as were most in heaven. It had created quite the uproar. He'd received prayers from his father and mother, representing the mortal and nether realms respectively. If that weren't enough, the prayer from her daughter, representing heaven, secured his redemption. Sending the powers that be reeling.

There were many in the council that were outraged. Demands came in that something be done to quash the request and it could have easily gone unanswered. He might have the necessary prayers but without a celestial arbiter to take responsibility for him, the plea for heavenly mercy would be denied. No one would stand up for him and take on the burden of the request. Many thought the best thing to was nothing and the powers that be within the cetra were content with this. As a servant still true to heaven, Ifalna would not stand by and let the council ignore her daughter's prayer. Ifalna volunteered, electing herself as his arbiter.

That was how he came to be here, walking Adur'rta. It easily could have been why as well but there was another wrinkle in the already odd situation surrounding his redemption. He was to be included in the pool of guardians that were being prepared for her daughter's rebirth. It was extremely unlikely that he'd be chosen, but it was strange nonetheless. Still, for whatever reason, her daughter had obviously wanted this to happen; it was her choice after all.

Patiently, she explained this all to Sephiroth, using the most precise language she could. A question was in his eyes. Why prepare him if he had no chance? Without waiting for him to voice it, she answered. He would be prepared whether or not he was chosen, just in case. Better to be prepared than to have to scramble together at the last minute. She knew logic always appealed to him and the uncertainty in his eyes disappeared.

Sephiroth was taken aback, though his face remained carefully neutral. After all he'd done to the girl and she'd do so much for him. It hurt more than anything he could imagine. He didn't understand it. This flower girl...Aeris...had sacrificed so much. She'd given her life for a people largely responsible for the destruction of her planet. Prostrated herself on an altar that she knew would become her grave. Willingly went to her death, knowing when it would happen and who'd hold the sword. And she forgave him.

Before she died, she actually prayed for him. Gave him a second chance, knowing what he'd do to her. Was her compassion limitless? There was no question that she was an angel. She was more than that. No soul, human or cetra, was that forgiving. It was too much and he didn't understand, didn't understand it at all. It wasn't his place to, that much he figured out. He was content to be grateful to her and to take that chance given to him without thought.

For the next three years, under Ifalna and Lucrecia's careful tutelage, he learned what he'd have to do if he was chosen. He worked his ass off, even though there was a sense of futility in it. It didn't matter. He took the work he had to do seriously and was committed to seeing it through. There was no delusion of grandeur in his dedication. He knew there was no chance in hell that he'd actually be picked for this task, whatever it was. It was the gesture that counted. On his part and hers. The girl had trusted him enough to make a gift of his redemption, and to offer him a position he most certainly did not deserve. This was as close to complete forgiveness he'd get and it was enough for him.

The days, if they could be called that, moved at a snail's pace. The memories that came were less painful now, more of a constant, dull ache that weighted his heart. Being in Purgatory was no longer a battle with mind numbing agony. It had gotten so that he'd been able to take in his surroundings. He meditated much of the time, as there wasn't much to do or for that matter look at. Other than the endless, vacant desert horizon, filled with cracked earth and dust. When he wasn't meditating, he did katas to pass the time. Anything to keep himself busy.

He settled into a quiet routine, and after awhile, he gladly welcomed the long stretches of nothing that characterized Purgatory. It was by no means an interesting afterlife but it was peaceful. The first bit of real comfort he'd ever had, as insignificant as it was. Simplicity had always suited him best anyway. Sephiroth enjoyed the silence, and being alone in his mind was no longer strange and frightening.

There were no clamoring voices inside or outside his head, telling him what to do. Just him and though his memories were painful, he'd learned to deal with them. Better to have memory and remember yourself, than to have nothing as he had before. He almost liked the person he was now. Preferring the daydreamer he'd become over what he was before. It felt more natural. For the first time ever, he was content. Strange that in a place meant to punish and imprison, he felt free and in a way, he was.

During this time, there was much discussion about his duty. His recovery was promising, and much progress had been made over the last three years. Ifalna talked often about her daughter. Because she was to be his charge, he had to know a little about her. The older cetra told him just what he needed to know, not letting him in on more personal matters, which was fine with him. She was his unlikely savior and he owed everything to her. In his mind, he'd painted a picture of a young woman that was angelically kind, a paragon of virtue. Having all the qualities he lacked, as perfect as he was flawed. Yet as perfect as she was, there was no way, not one chance in a million that she'd choose him for anything. The likelihood of him sprouting a giant pair of wings was higher than that.

Ifalna had told him that if he was chosen, he'd know. The girl was compelled by heavenly edict to choose her guardian in person. Meaning, Aeris would come to him, which was a terrifying prospect, however unlikely. Secretly, sometimes he wondered what would happen if she did and it was strange that such thoughts brought a small smile to his face.

He tried not to think things like that. Building up false hope was pointless and unproductive. It led to backsliding and he couldn't afford to make such mistakes. His wildest dreams meant nothing, the girl wouldn't pick him and he'd never see her...until she showed up outside his prison. He was floored and could barely believe his own eyes. For a moment, he thought it was some kind of delusion but it soon became clear that she was very real.

When he closed his eyes, he could remember that moment with crystalline clarity. The string of simultaneous emotion that ran through him, wonder, fear, joy, all in one go. He was too astonished at the time to notice how terrified she'd been. This was his first mistake. He should have known by her reaction something wasn't right. No one who was glad to see you backed away in panic like that. Instinct or not, the girl didn't have any love for him. Fool that he was, he didn't immediately refuse to accompany her.

He should have told Ifalna to have the girl pick another guardian. She had told him he didn't have to undertake the quest if he didn't want to. It would mean the rest of eternity in Purgatory but that wasn't so bad. Besides, he wasn't ready for it. He wouldn't have been ready with all the preparation in the world. It would have been so easy...if only he'd said no.

Instead, he acquiesced. Despite the warning bells in his head, and the trepidation in his heart. Lucrecia had always told him to follow his heart and he ignored her advice or perhaps he followed it too closely. Once there, in the thick of things, he found out the girl was no paragon. Nor was she as kind and compassionate as he'd imagined. That image he held onto and the hope built upon it was shattered into a thousand skittering pieces. What was left behind was anguish and despair that he'd left a place that brought him comfort for this cold city where he wasn't wanted.

Did she save him just to scar him, was that the point of all this? If so, it hurt her as well. It made not one damn bit of sense. Pure lunacy, that's what it was. It was confusing and upsetting, and there was no one there to help him make sense of it. The days and weeks flew and crawled and tortured him. Hope was a distant star during this time. Taunting him as it twinkled in the sky, just out of reach.

He hated it here and vicariously hated her for bringing him here. Agreeing to this farce was the biggest mistake he'd made so far. It was a sick, almost ironic lesson. That he finally got why Ifalna had pushed him so hard about the kinds of decisions he made. Again, he'd subverted his desires for another and again, he let himself be put in the position of being used.

He fell back into old habits, the ones he tried so hard to overcome. Reacting to her with the one emotion he had no trouble expressing. She didn't see his grief, even when presented to her as obviously as he could. The girl viewed him as a monster, a raging beast to be feared, even before that was all he showed her. His attitude only fueled the image now, soon to become a vicious cycle of anger and resentment.

He had truthfully given up. She'd never see anything but the madman. Sephiroth had tried not to let it bother him, but it did. He'd worked hard for three years not to be that man and he hated the way she looked at him. In her eyes he saw himself as she saw him. She saw the him of the past....the one he'd left behind but somehow could never escape and loathed the way it made him feel.

Perhaps it'd be better if he just didn't talk to her at all. If he'd just accept her hatred of him silently, maybe things would be easier. He disliked the idea of being used again, it was like betraying all his hard work. But in the end it was either that, or he'd slip further back into bad habits. Though he didn't regret the arguments they'd gotten into. It was unsettling, but he kind of liked fighting with her. At least it was interaction of some kind and it _was_ strangely liberating. Lucrecia had said that sometimes it felt good to get things off your chest. He sort of understood what she meant, but fighting all the time wasn't doing much good.

The conclusion of all this thought was that they had to find a way out of this city. There was nothing to do here for either of them. The girl dealt with it by sinking further and further into an imaginary world, where everything was perfect because she wasn't here with him. He barely dealt with it at all. His only choice was to shut off his mind entirely in the blissful half sleep of meditation. This city kept them apart and allowed them to shirk their respective duties, causing them to lash out at each other. This didn't change his feelings for the girl, he still disliked her but something had to be done.

By refusing to help her, he wasn't sure what he was doing. Mostly, he wanted to see her come back and whine to him. If she was like everyone else, that's what they'd do. That's the way Shinra always worked. Certainly the way Jenova worked. When she didn't immediately come back to beg for help, he had to be honest...He was surprised. Over the weeks, this reaction dimmed. Until teasing her was all he had. He waited for her, in hopes of goading the girl into a fight. It was something to do, but it brought him no joy, just made him feel worse about himself, so he stopped. This was when his long spate of thinking began, and his eventual conclusion that leaving was the ideal solution to their problem. It was a decision that had taken a lot of time to get to, which was convenient, because time was all he had.

He knew she hated him and he didn't grudge her that. The thing he did have a problem with was how she used it to blind herself, jeopardizing her mission as a malicious stab at him. He was sure she thought that all this time she was proving something by being stubborn. That she'd gotten some petty revenge by one upping him. Showing him how tough she could be. When she thanked him, she had that shy look in her eyes. The one all girls got when they thought they won something from him. Maybe she thought he'd gotten it for her because he was so impressed by her effort. Idiot. She could think what she wanted. He'd retrieved the materia for the exact reason he said he did. It'd take more than a few dunks in an arctic pool to impress him, much less garner his respect.

At one time, he'd admired her for all the sacrifices she made, until he met her and found her fallible. He'd decided after awhile that he didn't hate her, hate was too strong a word. No, he was disappointed at having to put her into that column with the rest of humanity. The one labeled just like everyone else.

He wanted to leave, because if he left he'd finally have a purpose. Something proactive he could do that'd make him feel like less of a bastard, moving forward, instead of taking a thousand steps back. All the explanation he needed was in the definition of what he was. A guardian. That was his job and if nothing else, he could cling to that. The girl was too pugnacious to see the harm she was doing. He'd played into her game and he'd had enough.

Someone had to bite the bullet and it had become clear to him that she wouldn't be the one to do it, even if her precious planet were to die. He'd done only what he thought was necessary. Not for her gratitude. He didn't want a thank you or an apology...didn't want a god damned thing from her, having already received nothing in spades. He was here to do a job. Pure and simple.

No matter how many times he repeated these thoughts to himself it seemed to make no difference in the depression he felt. Holding onto duty, that's what he'd done before and look where it got him. Back then, he didn't understand how much he had to lose. He understood now more than ever and everything here just reminded him of what he left behind. The simple comforts he'd taken for granted. Each day was a struggle against himself and the desire to be back in a place where he felt a scrap of peace. Each day he wished to be any place but where he was.

It was sick but there were times, mostly at night, when he would dream of leaving...and going to seek out his own death. Such thoughts had always been common for him. In days long past he'd actively sought suicide. Then, death hadn't been real for him. It was alarming, but those thoughts that seemed familiar took on new strangeness. They were more like passing smoke, just another thought that he walked through without thinking or acting on it. He didn't really want to die again.

Having died twice now, he began to realize some things. This second time had opened his eyes a bit, it ground him in reality. It wasn't a means to an end. Wasn't the idle peace he'd sought. It was unpleasant and there was no peace to be had, only suffering. At least, for one like him. Life, with all its problems and annoyances and basic imperfections was far more interesting. In life, there was a promise for real peace, not just the dream he chased. The girl had given him that hope; he still credited her for that, even if she was unacceptably flawed. Besides, he wasn't so sure that he'd go back to Purgatory if he died a third time and he wasn't willing to chance that he would. Heaven seemed to be rather capricious in its decisions, all things considered.

Once he'd thought of her as an angel. Now all he could see was a girl, weak and pitiless as all humans were. Still, being with her beat being dead and maybe, if he looked hard enough, he'd suss out a point to all of this. Crazier things have happened. Looking down on her, the once palpable sense of bitter disappointment waned. This little bit of introspection seemed to do some good. Another one of Lucrecia's lessons. She had told him that looking inside one's self was one way to determine one's path as a human being. It was the principal factor in separating the great from the unworthy. If he were to learn from his mistakes, he would have to take a good look at his past.

He smiled quietly to himself, staring at the back of the girl's head as it disappeared into darkness. All of a sudden there was light, but he was unperturbed by it. Absorbed in thought, he just watched, enjoying the fact that he could do such simple things. Life would be worth living as long as he could find these simple things. He could ignore the girl, do his job as best he could and at the same time search for a bit of peace on earth. Thinking about that, he began to dream again. His imagination was set free and it played, carelessly bounding from thought to thought, like a stone skipping over the water. She usually wore her hair up. Noticing her auburn locks as the flitted to and fro in the wind. Where the wind came from was of no consequence. He liked it better down...

"..._Hey!__ Hello? Are you awake!?_"

He cocked his head, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. As if the voice had magically come from there.

"..._Hello? Anyone in there? Sephiroth? Anyone?_", a pause, "_Anyone?_ _Hellooooooooo_"

_A voice from beyond_..._have I gone back home?_ The voice was a sweet lullaby; he could almost lose himself in it.

"_HEY!_" another very long pause, " _HEY__! WAKE UP! SNAP OUT OF IT!_"

A loud clap near his ear startled him and had he been weaker, he'd have cried out. His instincts kicked in and he barely reacted to the sound, turning his gaze to the tiny woman in front of him. The girl stared back at him, large emerald eyes gone wider with cautious mirth. She'd caught him off guard again, damn her. Truthfully, he wasn't really that irritated. Didn't really care either way but damned if he'd let her know that.

"You okay?" She asked, tilting her head blithely to one side as she spoke.

"Yes." He replied simply, not going out of his way to be cold or menacing, though his voice did remain for the most part without color, as if he was stating an unalterable fact.

"You sure?....because you kind of spaced for a minute and..."

"I'm fine."

"Oooookay." She said, carefully elongating the word for emphasis. The vocal equivalent of holding your hands up and backing away, "Well...the door's open now, we can go in....just thought I'd let you know."

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away, fixing his gaze beyond the girl's head and into the corridor beyond. Aeris gave him an odd look, perturbed by the sudden change in demeanor again. This was apparently normal for him, which lead her to the obvious conclusion that Sephiroth was a rather strange man and completely unpredictable to boot. She shook her head and walked slowly through the door she'd just opened.

Sephiroth was still peering inside the darkened corridor. Searching for a sense of the space, and what might be beyond it before entering. The girl didn't seem to have the same sense of discretion and entered without thought. She wasn't cautious enough. They couldn't even see anything, she should have waited until they had a light of some kind. He couldn't depend on his own eyesight anymore. Though it still was better than normal, it was hardly what it had been.

God knows what might be down there...waiting in the dark. He was about to say as much and just as she set foot in the corridor, it illuminated abruptly in an almost violent burst of light. The corridor seemed to come alive as long lines of pure energy swiftly crawled over the walls. Like distant, roving lights that traversed backwards, seeking out the deepest parts of the corridor and to wherever it led.

Both of them had frozen in awe, pausing to appreciate the beauty inherent in the ancient's technology. The girl seemed to be singularly entranced by it, staring at it with an openly joyful expression, so wrapped up in it, that she hadn't noticed that one foot hovered precariously in the air, still in mid-step. Sephiroth was more restrained in his admiration, preferring to silently examine and absorb as much as he could. The girl came out of her trance, setting her foot down as she moved forward slowly. Her eyes flit over the corridor, trying to find one place to rest themselves and failing.

Stepping closer to one wall which she seemed to scrutinize as she moved, she ran one hand over it and smiled when the light wavered slightly. Her fingers brushed over the stone again and dipped into a fault line of light. She giggled girlishly, the hiccup of sound so soft that he almost didn't catch it. He hadn't moved an inch, though his attention was drawn from the wall. The girl must have felt it because she turned to gaze at him, tipping her head in question when she saw the same faraway look on his face that she'd seen before. Why was he looking at her like that?

"What is it?"

Sephiroth looked away quickly, to cover up the fact that she'd caught him daydreaming again. His eyes fell on the open door and the materia embedded within it.

"Your materia..." he stated softly. It was as good an excuse as anything.

"What about it?" She questioned, taking a minute step towards him.

"You shouldn't leave it."

Her brows furrowed in puzzlement, "...We're the only ones here..."

"You might need it."

The girl made a little humming sound and pursed her lips, her hands resting on her hips. She sounded a little bit like one of Shinra's computers as they came up when you first turned them on. It was as if the sound helped her think somehow. She nodded her head in agreement and without a word she shuffled past him to retrieve it. The lights didn't go out, and that comforted him, meaning that once activated they didn't immediately go out. He let the girl struggle with removing the materia from the keyhole, taking the opportunity to get ahead of her to scout their path. This was apart of his job, after all.

From his quick observation, this corridor was quite old, most likely built a bit before the rest of the city. The oracle chamber seemed to be the most ancient structure here. The city's initial centerpiece before the underground parts were built. Mirroring the girl's actions, he touched the wall. His fingers passed over the surface, examining it closely. The wall's surface was perfectly smooth and though the light looked to be a groove in the stone, it was anything but that. It was a part of the stone, and the transition between the two was seamless, though the stone parts of the wall did contrast slightly in tactile sensation with the fluid rivulets of light that cut through it. The stone was cold, but the light trails were much colder and that was the only difference he could discern.

How had the ancients done this? The means by which this was accomplished were undoubtedly of mystical origin. Whatever method they used, it was plain to him that magic like this would take incredible power. Contemplatively, he stared at the wall, very much impressed by the ancient's seeming ingenuity. This place had to be quite important to put so much work and obvious care into a simple corridor. And whatever this corridor led to must be equally important. Very likely it was precious beyond measure...and such things rarely went unguarded.

He turned away from the wall and began the long walk downward. There was no sense in waiting, especially if he had some nasty guardian beast to contend with. The girl would be no help; the fact of the matter was she'd be a colossal hindrance. His situation was made worse for lack of a weapon. He detested hand-to-hand fighting but he had no choice.

His eyes were locked on the path in front of him as he focused on what he had to do. The corridor seemed to pass into infinity, long patches of level ground broken by the occasional set of stairs. Colors grazed over the walls lazily, bubbling up the sides like carbonated soda. Imperceptibly, the colors and the light illuminating them pulsated, which was at once comforting and yet a bit unnerving in its eeriness.

The girl was far behind him and getting farther each minute. She still struggled with the materia, apparently unable to wrench it from its hold in the wall. He paid no mind to the soft grunts in the growing distance. It was better this way. A place like this would be crawling with ancient things that shouldn't be disturbed. It was no place for a little flower girl who could barely pull a piece of materia from a wall slot. These things would tear her apart. Not that he'd let them...he was looking for a good fight, after having cleared the rest of the city of monsters. Hadn't had one in quite some time and there was something to be said about releasing frustration on random monsters. And he was sure it had been a long time since anything in here had anyone to prey on.

"Hey! Hey! HEY! WAIT UP!"

With a soft sigh, his shoulders went slack at the sound of her voice. Despite her protests, he didn't wait, not even slowing his pace for her. She called out again and he pretended not to hear. Didn't she get the hint? There was a dark urge in him to make it more obvious to her that she wasn't needed, but he held it back, remembering his promise to himself to not engage the girl in pointless argument. He could hear her fumbling steps behind him as she hurried to catch up, apparently having giving up on making pleas for her cause. A shrill gasp came from behind, along with the sound of skittering stone.

Sephiroth finally slowed his pace a bit, concerned that she might trip and break her pretty neck if he didn't. If the girl was too foolhardy to attend to her own safety, so be it. He wasn't in charge of this mission anyway. It'd make any upcoming battles harder for him, but it was her decision. So he resigned himself to enduring her company. The footsteps behind him became less labored, though it tested his patience to hold back for her. Her pace being interminably slow...and there were a lot of stairs.

The entire way down they barely said a word, other than her initial under the breath grumbling about him not waiting. After that, not a word passed between them. It made the girl terribly nervous. She hated silence. He could tell by the sounds of her fidgeting behind him as she walked and the occasional soft sigh. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was relieved. If he had to endure another awkward conversation with the girl he'd unhinge his jaw and bite his own head off.

The corridor they followed lead deep, deep below the city. He wondered how far it went. They'd been walking a good forty minutes before that thought occurred to him. There didn't seem to be an end in sight. His feet kind of hurt, another new experience for him. Walking had never tired him this much before. Then again, he didn't really have to walk if he didn't want to back then. Teleportation was faster and more fun, a thought he'd only admit to himself. It was really the only part of his former strength he missed.

He'd scarcely thought about the girl behind him for the last ten minutes. She was used to being human. Was it harder or easier for her? On one hand, walking was something she as a half-breed couldn't always avoid. They had methods of transportation like cars and chocobos that made it somewhat easier. Yet in the end, they did eventually have to get out of the car or off the chocobo and walk.

On the other hand, she wasn't the hardiest person he'd ever seen. Most humans were just as fragile, if not more so. She did seem to possess hidden strength that she could call on but very inconsistently. Maybe he'd just ask her. He glanced at her and the look on her face was all the answer he'd need. She looked liked he felt behind the placid facade. Very tired and just a bit peeved that the ancients saw fit to build such a damn long staircase.

When his foot left the last step he almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost. Weakness was not to be shown in front of others, especially one who hated him so much. The girl had no such inhibitions and let out an extended exhalation. Wincing, she bent down and massaged her ankles consecutively. Being delicately boned, they often ached when pushed to their limits like this.

"If I never see another set of stairs again it'll be too soon.."

He grunted, not interested in her bluntly obvious and lame attempt to draw him into conversation.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

She was getting to the point now. Perhaps realizing that beating around the bush got her nowhere with him. Of course, the up front tactic wouldn't work either. He blatantly ignored her question and turned his back on her.

"Hello? I asked you a questi....Oh, nevermind...." She mumbled to herself, realizing the futility in trying to converse with him.

He paid no heed, not even when she grumbled quietly under her breath. She liked to talk and he'd let her, even if it was just barely heard complaints and insults hurled in his direction. The room they were in was far more interesting anyway. It revealed itself as you descended the stairs, becoming more glorious with each step in. The room was circular in shape, having no real flat surfaces the walls seamlessly curved into the high ceiling.

There the rivulets of light converged and at the apex was a chandelier, which lit the room with opalescent brilliance. The chandelier was a large glowing orb of light, and around this main light were smaller motes of light that seem to fall from the larger orb. like seeds spilling from a recently opened pomegranate. And none of this seemed to be attached to anything or if it was, it was hidden extremely well. As it was, it floated in mid-air, held there by a force beyond comprehension.

He had to give it to the ancients, they knew how to impress. In his life, he'd seen many amazing things and because of this, he tended to look at things from a more jaded perspective. It was times like these, when he saw something that truly awed him, a bit of life that he lost returned briefly. The means by which that light had been made...it was mind boggling. He could toil his whole life to figure out how it worked and never find the answer. Even with all of the power he previously held, this simple light put all of that to shame. His eyes roamed and he allowed a small bit of wonder to creep into his features, softening them just slightly.

The grandeur of the ancients even extended to the floor beneath their feet. They stood on an excellent example of cetran tile work. He'd never seen its equal and he doubted he ever would again. Though it was faded with time, the colors dulling to pastel and some parts were cracked. Yet it was still a breathtaking work of art. The tiles used had to number in the thousands. Tens of thousands. There were so many tiny flecks of ceramic and stone, it'd take years to gauge their correct number. The design they shaped was eerily symmetrical and very intricate.

He gazed down at it, moving the tip of one foot over the spiraling shapes patterned on the floor. It was an abstract design, an oddity in ancient art. Usually, a more obviously representative design was chosen, to keep the meaning behind the work clear for the ignorant masses. This was clearly not made for just anyone to see. It had specific purpose and it was meant to be interpreted by a select few. The images used seemed to draw attention to the runes that trailed around the edge and the large symbol in the middle of the design.

He supposed the runes must have meant something to the ancients, he didn't pretend to know what. His knowledge of the language was scant, only knowing the most basic details of how ancient cetran functioned. He knew a few words and phrases, learned from phonetic translations he found in Shinra's library long ago. There had also been some rather inadequate notation on grammar and an incomplete dictionary. It was enough to cull a tentative grasp of the language, giving you a sense of its inner workings. But it hardly taught you enough to be able to read, much less speak it.

From his cursory studies, he knew that they used ideograms rather than a set alphabet. Runes were included in this however; they were rarely used in the written language. More commonly, they were utilized to represent certain concepts for use in spellcraft. He'd studied a bit of cetran spellcraft but not enough to tell him what these runes might mean. This was likely a mandala, meant to be activated by the accurate recitation of a spell or mantra. The design pointed to a stone doorway, without a door.

Where the entrance should be was a large, undecorated piece of rock. Both pieces seemed to come from the same period of time, which were undoubtedly much older than the corridor surrounding them. He could tell by the amount of wear and tear on the floor and the doorway, compared to the stairs they'd just walked. There was a marked difference in damage. Both were worn, but the floor and the doorway seemed to have suffered greater trauma. This corridor had been built to preserve these artifacts, which probably suffered the elements for quite some time before this was erected.

The girl had stopped talking by now and had begun to examine the room as he had been. She was just as awed as he was. More so, she seemed absolutely delighted, entranced by the power of this place. Her attention was focused on the floor, her lips moving soundlessly as she examined it. There was something rather eerie and unsettling about her and the way she was looking at the floor. He could feel... something... surrounding them. An aura, and it all centered around the girl.

It had never occurred to him but she might know what the runes meant. She was half-cetra, and perhaps not as ignorant of her heritage as he thought. He wondered then, how could she have learned the language. She did speak it, her argument with her mother in the oracle was evidence of that. It didn't really matter; somehow she'd learned...this made her presence more useful than it had been before. She was now an asset and not a hindrance.

"Did you find something?"

"Hmmm....wha?" the girl asked, looking up at him with an odd amount of serenity. "Oh, yeah. I think so..."

Her voice was high and had an airy, dreamlike quality to it that thoroughly disturbed him. He'd expected her to berate him for leaving her, perhaps ask why he hadn't answered her questions. He was becoming more and more concerned by the moment. She was acting as if she were drunk or drugged. Something in this place might be working through her.

"What is it?"

"The decoration on the floor...." She said, vaguely. Gazing down at it again and seeming to lose herself in it.

"Yes...And?"

"....My people..." She paused, cocking her head as if listening to someone else, "They believed that in both life and death, the soul undergoes a journey. There were many paths one could take...but only one lead to enlightenment. These runes...this whole design represents that concept...the ideal traits one seeks to attain enlightenment and thereby ascend...The path is called...." She trailed off, squinting her eyes as if she was straining to hear.

The girl closed her eyes and concentrated, letting the power in this place course through her. Sephiroth could feel it as it happened...and again, he was disturbed. It reminded him of the blissful time he'd spent in the lifestream...with her...before. He'd tried to push those thoughts away and for the most part, he'd succeeded. His mind was torn from this divergent thought and put to task on the name of the path. He knew that name...Ifalna said....

"....Adur'rta..."

"Yes, how did you know?"

He wasn't sure what to say. This was the path Ifalna had spoken of to him on many occasions. It was the path she wished for him to take, but had never implicitly ordered him to follow. She said it was his decision, in the end, to travel Adur'rta. The rewards for following it were eternal peace, the realization of one's purpose and the final ascension of his soul. It would allow him to move from Purgatory and be reborn as all human souls were.

But...she'd never told him what he had to do. The steps he had to enact to walk on this path. Her only answer had ever been, that he'd know when the time came. It was a vague and unsatisfactory answer. Not even Lucrecia could make sense of it for him. What little she knew was no different from what Ifalna had told him. This girl, he wondered if somehow she held the key to it all. Even so, he wouldn't tell her where he learnt it. The conditions of his redemption were none of her business anyway.

"It doesn't matter...What else does it say?"

Aeris considered for a brief moment pressing him for more information. One look at the pinched look on his face told her it'd be pointless. So she left it alone. She approached the doorway, looking it over just once. Eyes blinking languorously as she studied the surface. She lifted her right hand up and began to draw in the dust with one finger. Where she touched, bright golden light was left behind, blazing a trail worn by her fingertip. She lifted it off the surface to examine her work. Three lines formed together which looked like the letter 'Z', formed backwards and at a slight slant. He looked from the floor to the door...she'd drawn one of the runes found on the floor mosaic.

"Sic transit gloria mundi..." She paused for a beat "So passes the glory of the world."

Her words were spoken softly and he got the feeling that she wasn't talking to him...nor to herself. She spoke to the doorway itself and it answered her. The words of the ancients came forth, brought to life after thousands of years of waiting for one girl. The words traveled across the stone tableau in bright greens and blues. Blinking as their message repeated. Sephiroth could not begin to guess what they might mean, nor did he want to. There was something ancient and vaguely terrifying about the power he felt surrounding them. The fact that the girl seemed so unperturbed by it made it that much more alarming.

"What does it say?"

The girl didn't turn to look at him, her eyes were locked on the wall and the flashing message. She was and wasn't in her body...it was like...she was the same size as she had been coming in, yet she seemed much larger now. An aura of power surrounded her, and he could feel it with every fiber of his being. There was a certain amount of deference and respect he felt he had to give her. His awe of her momentarily returned as he waited for her answer. When she finally spoke, it was halting and breathless as she channeled her power, her hand never leaving the surface of the stone.

"It speaks of the watchtowers...and this rune..." She replied, nodding to the strange backwards 'Z' that still glowed golden, "The watchtowers are the physical manifestation of Adur'rta...to awaken them, is to walk the path of enlightenment...To..."

Her eyes glazed over and she shook her head, pressing her eyelids shut as if she was experiencing something quite painful. She gasped and lurched forward, her fingers splaying across the surface to prop herself up. Meanwhile, the words grew in number and began to move in orderly rows. They whirled across the surface, spinning like the myriad stars and suns that made up the universe, becoming a brilliant vortex of light that converged on her palm. She gasped again, this time it was higher pitched as if she were surprised...or hurt.

Her palm pressed flatly into the surface, her fingers now spread wide as the words entered her flesh. They merged with her, moving from the wall onto her skin. Drawing themselves across her flesh, twining around her fingers to her hand. Spiraling up her arm in concentric rings, moving as fast as they could up to her eyes, where they stopped briefly. Her eyes flew open and she let out a half scream as the lighted words entered her eyes.

They turned from the sparkling green of life to a dull white...like the eyes of a blind man, except for the unearthly glow that emanated from them. Her eyes stayed like that until every last word left the stone and merged with her. As the very last word disappeared, she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the knowledge that was given to her shown behind them. Thankfully, they'd returned to their normal color, but there was still a brilliant light that shone just underneath the surface of deep green.

She turned to look at him, still ensconced in a dream of sorts. Speaking from some foggy half-memory, "Long ago...One cetra was chosen above all others to undergo a journey...every ten years... pilgrimage of faith, to seek enlightenment for themselves...and for the peace of all souls on the planet. At the end, they were ready to face death itself and defeat it...at least, that's the story that was told...." she trailed off, losing focus for a moment before she returned to herself, "This rune is called the sun. It represents the fire of creation...the lifestream...and Adur'rta's first principle. The beginning....and the end..."

"What does that all mean?"

"It means...." She paused a moment before answering, "It means....this is where we begin."


	11. Listening Wind

_He felt like his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it._

_-Douglas Adams_

Her hand finally slipped off the stone, falling limply to her side. She still gazed at him, her eyes gone dim with exhaustion. He could see what was going to happen before it did. Her eyes fluttered and she tottered back and forth before her knees buckled. She tumbled unceremoniously to the ground in a rumpled heap. He let her fall. He saw it coming and he let her fall. There was a part of him, awakened by this place no doubt, that wanted to dart forward and catch her. A very strong part. It was almost unbearable to resist it. He'd even made the initial movement towards her before he stopped himself. As he watched her fall, he thought back to a dream he once had. One so pure and beautiful that it tore his heart open to even remember it.

He knew for certain he'd had it before...many, many times. It was a rarely pleasant reoccurring dream, not the normal punishing nightmares that plagued him since he was very small. He'd look forward to it, and when it finally came, how he mourned its loss as he woke. Only this time, it had been more real than anything he could imagine. Unlike the dream, this had a feel, a smell...it had strings of reality attached to it. So strong, that sometimes he wondered if he weren't in a nightmare right now and that dream was his reality. It was tempting...the dream was warm and comfortable. In it, he was happy...not just fleetingly...but it seemed to be everlasting. Eternal. And for a moment...one perfect moment...he felt something. It was a feeling he'd had very infrequently, but this was different than those other times. Something reserved for only one other...it had a name he dare not utter. But god...he felt it...

He'd been happy there. More content than he could ever remember. He'd tried to escape from it...subconsciously knowing that it would have to end. By needs, it had to end. He tried to wall himself up, to block the feeling from him...turning in on himself but it battered the walls and he couldn't keep it out. That warm presence that followed the feeling wouldn't let him alone. It followed him through his dream...through the lifestream. Dancing beside him, twirling giddily around and around, circling him, hovering close enough to touch yet just slightly out of his reach. Sometimes, it was so close...he could feel the essence of that warm presence. He could feel... It felt like...he wanted...

And when he awoke from that dream, still feeling warm and comfortable and only a little sore...How cold the world seemed. He was alone again. The warm presence had left, as had the contentment he felt. His eyes were still closed to the world and he almost convinced himself to go back to sleep. The dream was better than reality. He didn't realize the bitter truth in that statement until he laid eyes on the girl. The way she looked at him...it was with such contempt that the disgust was _still_ written on her face. He couldn't return to the dream just as he couldn't return to the lifestream. Sometimes, it was very hard to remember that. When he did, he was surprised each time at the hurt it caused. To save his sanity, he tried so very hard to forget. To make the difference between the dream and reality somewhat bearable, to no avail.

He noticed when she shied away from him the brief moment their shoulders touched as many months ago. The countless times she'd spoken to him, so afraid that every word stammered. The way she'd timidly walk up to him, touching him with trembling hands. Like he'd bite her hand off if she let it linger.

It was hard to forget that dream because it meant so much to him. The dream was everything he wanted. Everything he could never have. He didn't deserve it. Even so, the dream was all he had, and his hope lay in it. But he had to forget, because...because... The dream wasn't real...but it was. No. He shut hope out with firm finality. It wasn't real. The dream was a lie. Like all the other lies he swallowed over the years.

The girl wanted nothing from him and she would receive it from him in abundance. Her only impetus to play nice with him was because she needed him. She was content, as many were before her, to use him as a tool. A handy device to kill for her...or not, it really depended on how she wanted to use him. He was an all purpose tool, after all. Yes, she could sanitize it all she wanted. He would only kill if it were deemed by her to be necessary. As a last resort...but it was still killing. Still slavery.

That little parlor trick she just displayed. No matter how impressive it was, it wouldn't fool him into believing she needed him. A slave he might be, but his knees would only bend so far. He respected the power behind the girl, not the girl herself. Any effort to help her would be met with grudging gratitude. If that were the case, better to not help her at all. He'd already done enough by getting her that bauble, nearly freezing his ass off in the process. Letting her fall, it was his way of evening the score.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to convince himself he was right but she looked so small laying there on the cold, hard ground. So fragile. He felt guilty, leaving her like that but any kindness he'd offer wouldn't matter. It was a superficial show to her, meaningless. He really should have caught her, even if she wouldn't appreciate it. This played into her already dim view of him. He could have surprised her. Too late now.

She stirred, turning on her side and moaning. With one arm she pushed herself up with excruciating slowness. Her face contorted and she hissed through her teeth in obvious pain. Holding up her left arm, she pulled back the sleeve of her dress. When she fell, she'd landed hard on her elbow and the flesh had cracked open, bleeding through the sleeve. She poked at it tentatively, wincing every time she did it. He _really_ should have caught her. _Damn it_.

He turned away, unable to watch any longer and instead pretending to examine the tableau. Why did he feel this way? Like he'd done something wrong. His job had nothing to do with saving her from her own clumsiness. Surely, she knew what was going to happen. Why didn't she just sit down, like a normal person? It wasn't his fault...but it was. He half expected her to jump up and yell at him for allowing her to fall. She didn't and it just made him feel worse. _Damn it_. In all his life, he'd never felt this conflicted, this torn over something like this. There was a time when he felt nothing when he saw another in pain. How the times had changed. His keen eyes dulled for a moment at the surprising internal admission and he became suddenly and uncomfortably aware that it wasn't the time that had changed...but him.

The girl stood up quietly and dusted herself off. Occasionally making little grunts of discomfort when she moved her arm too suddenly, growling a bit with dissatisfaction at her soiled dress. She really liked that tunic and now it was stained. Blood was almost impossible to get out of fabrics, especially delicate ones like silk, which had a tendency to retain stains. If they managed to get out of this city, she might be able to get it out with some meat tenderizer and cold salt water...maybe. She had the feeling the tunic might just be a total loss but it was a real shame to toss it out without making some effort to save it. The embroidery work was so nice and...

"Are you alright?"

She was surprised, not just because who it came from but how it was said. So softly...and it seemed like he was actually concerned. His back was turned to her. She had a very good view of his hair and the back of his head...but his face was thoroughly hidden. He could be making fun of her for all she knew. This time, she'd take him at his word but so help her, if he _was_ making fun of her, she'd sock him right in the face.

"Yes, thank you."

He nodded, turning just enough so that she could see his face in profile. She smiled at him to let him know it was okay, really. She felt silly, making such an effort to reassure him but she'd always been a relationship builder. It came so naturally, she really couldn't stop herself from doing such open gestures of friendship. This confused him greatly. He had to admit, she was a bit of a conundrum. A walking, talking contradiction. Being alternately kind and cruel.

She didn't seem to be annoyed with him at any rate. It was a good sign, he guessed. He still felt bad, though he managed to hide it well. The girl was unaware of his internal struggle, not viewing the incident as a failure on his part and would have probably laughed had she known that he did. Possessing a cetra's natural gift for self healing she cast a basic spell on her wounds. It stopped the bleeding and reduced the pain that they caused. It took seconds to take effect but after it was cast, she was visibly better, invigorated, though still slightly exhausted from all the effort. Two big spells in one day was a bit much, even for someone with her power. She wasn't used to it after all. Despite her tiredness, she was anxious to get on with it. The tableau was nothing more than a barrier, set up by the ancients to keep unholy creatures out. It would have to come down.

She placed her fingertips on the lighted rune and with a twist of her wrist, she forced the barrier open. The entire tableau disappeared in a flash of golden light. Where there was once immoveable stone...there was now a vacancy, a void. Deep black, nothingness. She'd opened the entrance to yet another hidden room.

Again, the girl took no care, throwing caution to the wind as she stepped blindly forward. He should have let her walk straight in, allowing whatever might be lurking down there to teach her a lesson. But he still felt guilty about letting her fall. So he didn't. He gently touched her shoulder with one hand. She gasped shrilly, startled by the suddenness of the contact. Instinctively darting away from it like a frightened bird. Blushing when she turned to see Sephiroth staring at her, hand in mid-air with a distinctly annoyed look on his face.

"S-sorry."

He didn't favor her with a response, gritting his teeth and averting his gaze. There was only so much frustration one person could take. He felt that he'd taken more than his fair amount today. If he had to look at her, looking at him like that one more time...he'd seriously think about going nuts again. Like she expected him to be cold and cruel, he should just expect that she'd be terrified of him almost constantly. It didn't matter, shouldn't matter but it did. Shutting out his feelings, he walked past her without a word. She caught his sleeve as he passed, tugging at it when he didn't immediately stop. His head tilted back and he froze in place, inwardly sighing and trying very hard not to be annoyed with her.

"What is it?"

"Where're you going?"

"Inside."

"You are _not_ leaving me behind." She stated firmly, he could almost hear the stubborn pout in her voice.

"I wouldn't dream of it..." He replied dryly, turning to look at her"Do you mind?" Nodding to indicate her hold on him"I'd like to do my job, thank you."

She was pouting, quite defiantly, curling her fingers around the loose fabric of his sleeve more tightly. She wasn't going to let him go, not trusting him to allow her to come with. He seemed intent on ditching her and she'd be damned before she'd let him do it without a fight.

He rolled his eyes and sighed"I promise I won't leave you behind."

"You swear?"

His eyes narrowed, replying flatly"Yes...I swear. Now let me go."

"What job?"

That was a non-sequitur if he ever heard one"Come again?"

"What job...you said you were doing a job..."

"That would be protecting you." He stated blandly, barely able to hold back the word idiot, which seemed to him an apt insult to end that sentence with.

She didn't reply. Staring at him as if surprised something like that'd come out of his mouth. Without a word or sound, he tugged out of her grasp and abruptly turned his back on her to walk away. He'd gone forward several steps before he noticed she hadn't followed him. Looking back, her form was silhouetted in the door. Her hand propped against the edge of the doorway. He couldn't see her face and she probably couldn't see his.

He didn't want to ask, but he did anyway"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She answered thinly.

He had put the idea into her head that there might be worse things than him down here and that was frightening. Why else would he mention protection...what would he be protecting her from? If it made him nervous, or at least mildly concerned, than it must be pretty bad, maybe there was something he wasn't telling her. It was then that she began to imagine the possibilities and that was never a good thing. Her imagination tended to be on the overactive side.

She could almost feel the jaws of something large and disgustingly slimy coming down around her. It would have predictably large teeth and beady red eyes that would glow in the dark. She'd only see them just after it was hovering above her, poised to strike. Salivating as it thought of nasty ways to tear her into itty-bitty teeny-weenie pieces.

Sephiroth was in the dark...with the monsters. She hadn't heard anything from him for several minutes. That meant one of two things. The monsters had eaten him so fast that he hadn't even had time to shout...or...He was waiting quietly in the dark for something to devour her instead. This only heightened her fear and she bit her lip as she hesitated, her face gone chalk white with terror.

"Afraid of the dark?" He asked, mockingly.

The sound of his voice reverberating across the chamber caused her to shriek before answering back petulantly"No!"

Motivation through irritation. One of the best ways to get a soldier to do what you wanted. He'd played on her competitive streak. Her little game with the white materia told him that it was quite strong and easily challenged. He smiled slightly, glad that the dark hid this fact from her. Though she'd probably be even more motivated if she could see it, he didn't want to push her too far. There was a fine line between irritation and anger, and he didn't want her angry. She'd be thoroughly useless then. As it was, his jibe had caused her to become sulky and annoyed. He could work with it, as long as she kept quiet.

She set foot in the dark hall with small but determined steps. They echoed across the vast chamber, pinging through the deep black silence. Giving him a feel for the immense size of the place they were in. Moments later, he felt her presence by the slight disturbance of the air next to him. She moved in closer, bordering on uncomfortably close. He could feel her warmth next to him, having entered his territorial bubble. She was probably going to grab on to him again and he didn't like the idea of that one bit. Still, it was mildly amusing that she would come close to him at all. When they first met, she was more than willing to jump off a ledge rather than come nearer than a few feet. Apparently her fear of the dark outweighed her fear of him. He snorted quietly to himself, the closest he got to a genuine laugh.

"What?" She queried, as if she knew he was making fun of her in his head.

"Nothing."

He was very tempted to ask if she wanted to hold his hand. It was cruel, but her response to it would no doubt be priceless. Now probably wasn't the best time to bait her, no matter how funny it might be. They hadn't met any kind of resistance yet, which made him nervous. They should have met a least a few smaller monsters. The fact that there were none, pointed to there being one or more very large, very nasty beasts that had killed everything else off. If that was the case, it was best to be prepared for them and he didn't feel particularly prepared right now.

They had no weapons; the girl was little more than dead weight and it was almost pitch black. A small bit of light came from the entrance, but the soft glow from the corridor was hardly enough to provide adequate illumination for a fight. Despite this, he moved forward fearlessly, the girl hovering just at his side.

The chamber woke suddenly, not-so-hidden torches along the walls burst into flame with a roar, one after another, until the entire room was blazing with flickering orange light. Aeris shrieked, jumping in surprise towards the nearest warm body, which happened to be Sephiroth. His hand went to his side, instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Not finding it, he clenched his fists and dropped his hands to his side. He paused for a beat, turning his head with deliberate slowness to glare at the girl. For a second time, her tiny hands grabbed a hold of his sleeve. He disliked the pattern it was setting. She was becoming far too comfortable with him, if that were possible.

He glared at her, putting as harsh an expression on his face as he could. She wasn't even looking at him; her eyes had gone wide and were darting around the room. As if she expected to be attacked at any moment. She was shaking. His face softened just a bit. Her fear wasn't an extreme reaction but logical, given her experience. This city was strange and she was with someone she viewed as an enemy. It was hard to feel secure in such a situation. He understood but at the same time, fear wouldn't help them. How in the world had she gotten along at all with Cloud and his friends? They'd protected her...no, they coddled her. Instead of forcing her to stand on her own two feet, they fostered her weakness. Treating her like a delicate china doll, instead of their equal. He was here to protect her, but he wouldn't mindlessly fight her battles for her. She'd have to learn to do things on her own and soon. Loudly clearing his throat to get her attention, he set his gaze straight in front of him as he crossed his arms. He could have pulled out of her grasp but he preferred to allow her to do it herself.

"Oh..." She said with a little, embarrassed gasp.

Her hands slipped from his sleeve, leaving behind a bit of her warmth. He hardened his stare, willing himself not to look at her. She hadn't backed away from him. Why hadn't she backed away from him? Frustrated, he straightened his sleeve, giving her a quick scowl. She wasn't looking at him; her attention had turned to the room around him. He quashed his aggravation and followed suit. The room was positively cavernous, a large open circle like the foyer they just left only much, much bigger. From the floor to the ceiling, the entire space was decorated with the same care as the entryway. Elaborate relief sculpture covered the walls and the ceiling. There was statuary everywhere. Stone figures surrounded them, front and back, their cold eyes gazing blankly at the two strangers who so thoughtlessly entered their world.

Sephiroth looked them over, attempting to determine from what period in time they were from. By the naturalistic way they were posed, they looked almost modern but for the archaic costumes they wore. The skill with which the stone was worked was astounding. If he remembered his art history, this had to predate the time of the original planetary crisis by several thousand years. Very little survived from that time. This place was an archeological gold mine. He could name about fourteen art historians and archeologists who'd give their right hand to be here. Coming closer to one of the statues, he examined it. It had once been painted, from the remnants of color that flecked the surface. At one time, the entire room had probably been painted in bright, festive colors. But it had faded with time, as the years passed the paint began to flake away. Until all that was left were dull figures made of blank rock.

The floor had fared no better, it was worn and cracked, with holes that pitted the surface dreadfully. Long ago, it had been as beautifully tiled as the floor outside. However, the mosaic in the entryway had been restored, that much was now clear to him. Perhaps the ancients were attempting to restore the rest of this room as well, before they all died that was. Over the years, large chunks of tile had been worn away, exposing the concrete underneath. The pattern which once graced it had long ago been broken and was barely recognizable, with the exception of a large stone seal, which they were standing on. He recognized the design. This seal was the same as the one outside. Obviously this was some kind of standard or emblem. The seal consisted of a large circle, made of what was probably hundreds of pieces of lapis lazuli. Inside the dark blue circle, were three smaller circles made of pale pink marble.

They were now well into the room by now. He determined this to be a place of worship, an ancient temple or monastery. The placement of the many stone figures suggested this. Each having their own small, individual altars set just in front of them. Three large doorways stood just across from the entrance, they served as a focal point for the room. All decoration was made and placed to draw the eye towards them. Doorways to the gods...he was familiar with the concept. Older temples had been built with three doors representing the three layers of existence. One door led to heaven, one that led to earth and the last that led to the netherworld. Originally, each door led to a room, though as time passed the practice was discontinued. The concept of the doors was kept, but instead of actual door, their presence was more representational. Usually a carving or a painting took the place of a practical door.

The middle door was the largest, having its own staircase. Two of the largest stone statues flanked it, almost like they were guarding it. The two smaller doors on either side seemed more functional, rather than the almost ritual middle door. He guessed that whatever they were here for was behind it. His gaze lingered on the middle door. In his studies, he'd never found out what was supposed to be behind them. The left hand door was said to house earthly knowledge. The right held otherworldly solemnity. And the middle door was the bridge to heaven and beyond it was the gateway to the palace of heaven. But that was just fairytale nonsense, yet he couldn't help but wonder what lay behind those doors. Especially the middle one...

The girl seemed at home here, once her initial fear disappeared. She was impressed by this place but this time she didn't stop to admire it. There was much to do before the day was over and very little time. Standing in front of the middle door, she clapped her hands three times. It was an old cetra tradition, clapping three times in a sacred space was said to bring to attention any wandering spirits. She made a circular motion with her hands, another fairly ancient gesture of respect, completing the action with a low bow.

Lifting her head proudly, she spoke with great reverence. "Adsum."

She was here, finally. It had been a long time since a cetra had set foot in this temple. The powers that had been trapped here had been waiting for her. So many years, they'd waited. The last scion had come to release them. In response to her polite greeting, the temple gave the summoner its first gift. Tendrils of the lifestream curled up from the floor and froze in place as it twined around itself. It formed two ornate stands that looked almost like effulgent glass vases. The floor underneath the stands glowed with a bluish white light. It flashed once, nearly blinding both Aeris and Sephiroth.

Aeris was the first to open her eyes, blinking away the dark spots in her eyes. Two orbs were perched on the previously empty stands. The one to the right was a light pink, the one on the left a dark blue. She reached for the pink orb, studying it for a moment. Holding it in both hands, she closed her hands and ran her thumb lightly over the surface. The orb illuminated and before she could do or say anything, it exploded. Shattering into a thousand shimmering pieces, which floated back to the stand it'd come from, reminding her of the raining petals in her cherry orchard. Another small explosion of light engulfed the stand and when it dissipated, a pile of neatly folded clothes appeared.

Sephiroth looked curiously from her pile of clothes to the dark blue orb that sat in front of him. The ancients were just full of surprises. Without waiting to be told to, he picked up the remaining orb. He moved his hands over the surface, mimicking the motions the girl had made moments before. Nothing happened.

"Hmph." He grunted with dissatisfaction.

The girl had noticed his predicament and gingerly took the orb from him. He let her, instantly his hold on the device relaxed as he jerked away from her touch. She paused, taking notice of his discomfort but quickly let it go, holding him with her eyes. He wanted to look away, but she wouldn't let him. The girl held out the orb and slowly traced her fingers over it to instruct him in its use. He was glad to have something else to focus on and gratefully watched her motions, emblazoning them on his memory. The effect of the action was much the same as it was before. However, this time there was no bright light. No reminder of cherry blossoms or rosy fingered dawn. The sphere exploded like a pillowcase full of midnight black feathers. All soft darkness and cloying mystery. When the last residue of magic dissipated a second pile of clothes was left on the pillar.

He approached it, tipping his head at this new wonder. Someone had known they would come here and had enchanted those orbs for their arrival. Why would the ancients make such previsions? Unless, of course, these clothes served a specific purpose...unless they were necessary. This was a place of worship, of that, he had little doubt. His eyes narrowed as he studied the garments, rubbing the cloth between his fingers. Fine fabric, such as silk, would have degraded over time. The ancients knew this and had arranged for these clothes to be hidden in these orbs for the day they would arrive. Clever...if a bit distressing.

To confirm his already well held suspicion, he asked the girl, "What are these for?"

She'd already gathered her clothes over one arm, answering him casually"Ceremonial robes for the ritual we have to perform..."

He raised an eyebrow in mock-surprise. His face remained impassive as he gazed downward, seeming to almost be lost in blank reflection. She shrugged at his non-reaction and gestured to the door on the far left.

"You can change in there."

He nodded slowly and to her eyes, dumbly. It was like talking to a mute or a mannequin, only slightly more futile. Wordlessly, he picked up the garments left to him and entered the room she'd pointed out.

* * *

_Ceremonial robes_? He sighed tiredly. This little task was becoming more and more obnoxious with every moment. He wasn't looking forward to this in the least. It made no sense for him to go with her. The ritual was her duty, not his. Protecting her shouldn't entail a change of clothing. It wasn't like he was a part of the ritual anyway. At least, he hadn't been made aware of such a stipulation. He heaved another sigh, resigning himself to be dragged into doing one more thing he really didn't want to do.

Carelessly, he picked up the topmost garment and shook it out. It was a simple ivory tunic made of linen, resembling a karate gi. The only difference was the collar. A gi normally had a one that same color as the rest of the cloth, this one did not. A thin strip of red fabric lined the collar of the undergarment. It was there to create them impression of additional layers, making the garment look more impressive than it was without sacrificing comfort.

He slipped it on, folding it left over right before he tied it with a matching, ivory sash. A yukata was worn over this. In design, it was similar to a kimono, only shorter and of lighter weight. It was the color of pure, driven snow and made of high quality silk. The sleeves were slightly longer and more elaborate than the undershirt, reaching just past his wrist. Traditionally, a pair of pleated pants were worn over the yukata. His were made of indigo cotton and of a more formal design than he'd encountered. They were easy enough to put on, as he'd worn a similar garment for sword training so many years ago. Though the ties did give him some trouble, but he easily assessed and resolved the problem.

The last touch was a long, dark blue overcoat, the color of star saturated midnight. A haori, that's what the Wutanese called such a garment. It was undecorated but for seven small, circular emblems embroidered strategically onto the fabric. Two were located on both sides of the haori's long sleeves, two more graced where his shoulders would rest and the last was located on the back of the garment, just below the neckline. Briefly, he lifted one sleeve to examine it. It was a standard, one he recognized from the large room they'd just left.

Running a finger over the embroidery, his eyes took in the emblem's shape, it was a white ring that enclosed dark blue and inside the main ring were three small, white circles. This was the temple's insignia. He made a soft humming sound before letting the sleeve slip from his hand. It was a sound indicating mild appreciation and muted curiosity. Perhaps he did have some role in this ritual after all. He shrugged to himself and finished dressing. With quick grace, he finished his task and stood up, idly wishing for a mirror so he could see himself. He was by no means a vain man, but he was curious to see what he looked like. No doubt he looked ridiculous.

When he was a general he'd always detested formal functions and the uncomfortable clothes they required. As he recalled, Shinra's dress uniforms were a peculiar kind of torture that he distinctly loathed. They were itchy and very warm no matter the outside temperature. Had he been a weaker person, he'd have fainted on more than one occasion when wearing the miserable uniform.

As he changed ranks, the occurrences of such functions increased and soon his presence was no longer suggested but required. It was around this time that he began to hate his job. Formal events such as these were pointlessly obtuse, in his opinion, and deadly boring. He could only hope for a really good fight that would get his mind off of...just about everything actually. It didn't even have to be a good fight...it could be anything really...because he'd frankly feel cheated if he didn't end up killing something at this point. Really, any activity at all. Anything that would distract him from...and his mind left it at that. He needed to have something to focus on. A fight would give him that focus and at this point it was the only thing that'd calm his tattered nerves.

He wasn't sure what it was he was feeling, his emotions had been so hard to pinpoint as of late. It was easier when he could identify and use only a few but now there was a confusing plethora of feeling, which were unwelcome and brought nothing but confusion. And he'd never liked being confused. Ignorance, especially of one's self, was abhorrent to him.

With calm he didn't feel, Sephiroth strode out of the small room he'd used to change and back into the main chamber. The girl wasn't there, and he wasn't all that surprised by that fact and admittedly he was a bit relieved as well. It'd give him some alone time, which he desperately needed. This was the longest stretch of time he'd spent in the girl's company and he found it to be disconcerting and unpleasant. He absently scratched the back of his head while his other hand played with a small strip of paper that had come with the rest of his clothes. Flicking it between his fingers, he wondered offhand what it might be for. He'd recognized most of the garments give to him, except for that one.

His eyes unfocused and he lost himself in quiet reflection again. It help settle his nerves a bit, though a good fight would do more to improve his mood, this sufficed. He didn't really have any cohesive string of thoughts that ran through his mind. Mostly it was just absent observations and random images, and the occasional bit of idle philosophy to keep him from thinking too seriously. In this pleasant state of half awareness, he allowed his eyes to travel across the vaulted ceiling and statues that littered the once opulent space. He got a better look at the details he'd only been able to just skim when he first entered. This temple must have been quite impressive at one time. Even now it was filled with enigmatic power that overwhelmed the senses.

As he basked in it, he tried to imagine what this place might have looked like at the height of its glory. When the colors that were now dull and faded, were bright and vibrant, when it wasn't just an abandoned and forgotten piece of architecture but a working temple. His head tilted up in contemplation as he peeled back the layers of time, in his mind's eye forming a picture of the grandeur of a bygone age. This place had once been important. And to a certain extent it still was but the aura of faded glory still pervaded his senses. His imaginings were a playful way to occupy his mind, it was fascinating but at the same time...depressing.

The light chiming of bells broke his reverie and drew his gaze downward and away from the high ceiling. His previously peaceful expression tightened and the tension he'd shed with his quiet musing reappeared. If the girl noticed, she didn't show it nor did she say anything. She seemed more absorbed in straightening her clothes obsessively. While she was distracted, he noted her change of clothes. Her robes were much like his own, only hers were by far more elaborately decorated. She was the centerpiece for the ritual after all.

She wore a kimono in the same snow white color as his, identical in every way except for the length of her sleeves. They were much longer than his, almost reaching the floor and the tips of the sleeves had been dyed a light rose that gradually blended upwards into the fabric. Over the kimono, she wore a multilayered skirt of dark blue silk. The main part of the skirt was overlaid with a translucent layer of taffeta, and sewn into it were a multitude of jewels. No doubt they were real diamonds, put on as decoration that glinted like stars against the night sky. And this was all held together by a delicate saffron and coral obi that was wrapped neatly around her waist.

His eyes flickered to her hair and he was disappointed to find it pulled back into a high ponytail. She at least had the decency not to bind it further into that ridiculous braid. The sound of jingling bells reached his ears and now irritated, he looked for the source of the sound, searching her hair and the clasp that held it aloft. No, the source of the bell-like chiming didn't come from there. He couldn't see her wrists as they were covered by the overlong sleeves but he supposed it could have originated from there. She jingled again, and he frowned as he stared straight at her.

His eyes locked with hers, his expression that of aggravated contemplation as he regarded her, not really noticing that she had approached him with a similar expression. The girl stood in front of him, annoyed and a bit unnerved by the directness of his gaze. Up to this point, he'd very rarely looked her in the eye. His gaze had seemed to be permanently pinned somewhere to the left or right of her shoulder. And that was when he looked at her at all. It wasn't like she exactly wanted his undivided attention but it was disconcerting to talk to someone who wouldn't even acknowledge you were there. Despite her discomfort with him, she managed to do it. She hardly saw reason for his inability to do the same.

He was deep in thought, so lost that he momentarily forgot about the discomfort he felt in her presence. His head was tilted to the side as his eyes roamed over her form, paying particular attention to her hair. Searching for something. What it might be, she had no idea nor did she want to. But she was suitably shocked by the softening of his features as he did so. Shocked and a bit frightened. Self-consciously, she adjusted the clip in her hair, worried it might be out of place. It wasn't that she cared what he thought of how she looked. She couldn't care less...It was the ritual. This particular ritual was very important and she wanted everything to go perfectly. Entreating the spirit world was never an easy thing and they tended to be picky. Plus, if they screwed this up, they'd have to wait a whole month to try it again. And she did NOT want to spend another month cooped up in this city with him. It was then that she finally looked him over and she was not happy with what she found. Not happy at all.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him angrily"Where the hell did you learn how to dress?"

The tranquil look in his face was shattered and immediately replaced by his normal, stoic mask. He gazed back at her disdainfully, arching one eyebrow as if to say"_I have no idea what you're talking about, you crazy woman_."

"Well" She asked impatiently, crossing her arms in defiant fury"Didn't they teach you anything up there? I was under the impression you were prepared..."

Sephiroth had no idea what he'd done to set her off this time and he didn't really care. He wasn't about to answer to this slip of a girl, especially when confronting him in such an unduly rude and uncivil manner. Crossing his arms, he turned his gaze away and pointedly ignored her. He couldn't see her reaction but he could hear the sputtered oaths and insults that passed so easily over her lips. They were ignored as well. This seemed to make her angrier and he would have smiled in another lifetime. That lifetime being a few weeks ago...but now, he was too weary, too beaten to enjoy frustrating her.

The chamber went suddenly silent as Aeris glared at her companion. Why did he have to be a bastard about everything? Okay, she'd been rude. But he'd been rude first...not this time, but times before it. Her excuses were just that, excuses and hardly justifiable but at the moment, her anger gave strength to her convictions. Scowling, she marched straight up to him and without thinking, she grabbed his arms and uncrossed them. She hated the way he did that, crossing his arms to keep her out. He nearly stumbled back in shock, and the look on his face was priceless. It was the most emotion he'd shown...well, ever...she was pretty sure. His arms were held out as he stared at her in mute outrage. Aeris had to repress a smile. Laughing at him wasn't going to make her task any easier. Quickly, she untied the knot on the strings that held his haori closed. This wasn't exactly easy for her, being this close to him but it had to be done. It was his fault for not cooperating and she didn't have the time or patience for stupid mistakes.

She tugged the haori's ties, and looked up at him uncomfortably. Their eyes met, and she could feel her heart explode in her chest. It beat with maddening speed, yet despite this, she somehow retained her calm.

"Watch."

Carefully, she retied his haori, going slowly so he would benefit from the demonstration. When she finished, she pulled it out and gently instructed him to do it just as she'd shown him. She had expected him to have to retie it a couple of times before he got it right, but then again, he wasn't a normal person. He got it on his first try and she was a bit piqued at him for learning so fast. The least he could have done was pretend to fumble with it. Unless, of course, he liked making everyone seem imperfect and inferior to him, which was probably the case. She turned around while he retied the sash around his waist. Just in case the impossible happened and his pants dropped or something, not like she _wanted_ to get a good look at him again. After that last incident, she was already embarrassed enough for one lifetime and had no desire to make it enough for two.

"I have a question."

She was startled out of her bitter thoughts by his soft voice"...Yes, w-what is it?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does what matter?"

"You can turn around" he said, gazing at her as she turned to face him again"...The ties. How I tied them was unacceptable. Why?"

"You tied them with a formal Wutanese knot." She stated, not amused at all by the arching of his eyebrow. It seemed to be his all purpose expression of doubt and annoyance. "...and we aren't in Wutai...and this isn't a Wutanese ceremony. It's Cetra. The Wutanese borrowed parts of our culture. They emulated it, but it's not the same. "

"That's very interesting. But it still doesn't tell me why..." He replied curtly.

"We're going to summon a god. They _do_ tend to be a bit touchy when it comes to who they choose to give their power to. So a certain amount of ritual formality is expected."

"So, this god has enough time in its day to examine how I tie my jacket closed, much less care about something so insignificant? I'm touched..." He said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gave her a smirk laced with arrogant mirth.

"NO! It's just..." She faltered, feeling the familiar strains of frustration and anger welling within her.

Aeris hated herself for her weakness, hated it more that she'd have to admit it to Sephiroth. Not that he didn't know already, but the fact that he was forcing her hand made it all the worse.

"It's just...This is the first time I've done something like this...and I want it to go well. Plus, there's nothing wrong with wanting things done properly. I don't expect someone like you to understand, much less respect my people's traditions...but..."

"Tradition, I understand. You should have said..." He interrupted, pausing shortly afterwards. His forthright and aggressive manner dissipating, replaced by that uncanny, detached calm"...I apologize if I offended you. Shall we go?"

Sephiroth turned and made as if to leave. The girl behind him gave a little cough and he pivoted on his heel to look at her. She flushed bright red as soon as he laid eyes on her. What was it now?

"...Your hair."

He nearly rolled his eyes, immediately hating his promise to himself to try and be more patient with her. The paper he'd picked up from his clothes was steadily flicking between his fingers. Really, it was the only thing suppressing his ire at this point. His hands had always given him away. It was one of the rare expressions he'd never been able to repress. When nervous or angry, he'd find something, anything to occupy his hands. It inexplicably calmed him and at the moment, he was kind of glad he'd never managed to break the habit.

"What about it?" He asked, barely keeping the snarl out of his voice.

"It has to be tied up...Um...you'll need to turn around...so I can..."

Taking a calming breath, he did as he was told, keeping his eyes downcast because if he had to look at her, he'd just loose it. As he turned, the paper he was fwicking caught her attention. Without asking him, she deftly slipped it from between his fingers. He let her, too startled by the sudden contact to react with anything more than a complete shutdown of all thought. Gingerly, she ran her hands through his hair and she wasn't gentle. Whether it was because he made her nervous or she was doing it purposely, he didn't know. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

With painful slowness she straightened the strands and gathered them together into a very low ponytail. As she wrapped the little piece of paper around it, she tugged at his hair so abruptly that he almost felt obligated to remind her that is _was_ attached to his head and yanking it like that did hurt. If it weren't for his tight emotional control, he might have actually said something, maybe even flinched. But he didn't. He kept his peace. Not even rubbing his sore scalp when she was done. In the back of his mind, there was a small bit of unacknowledged warmth that she dared to come so close...but it was swept away before it was even realized. The only thing that remotely made the experience worthwhile was that he finally figured out what that damned piece of paper was for.

He didn't even bother to turn around to face her as she walked away from him. The glassy echoes of her footfalls reverberated in the ancient chamber like the repeated shattering of a thousand vases all at once. Each step she made rang, and the jingling that he'd identified as merely annoying became deafening. Her feet...the sound came from her feet. The sound combined with the light and her dress made her look too unreal. She was a vision from the past. A wraith dredged up from a lake, sent to trail before him, mourning his continued existence, dragging her motes of ethereal light behind her. The diamonds in her midnight skirt sparkled as the stars would.

She turned around slightly as a door behind her opened and he could have sworn he saw it. An aura or glow that fell all around, covering her in a bright, holy light. A vision of god's pure and undiluted mercy, she was its right hand. No angel, but a goddess in her own right. He froze to the spot, unable...unwilling to follow. Thoughts he didn't want to admit hit him then and the only reason he moved at all was because the girl was staring at him. She gave an insistent nod when he failed to follow. His eyes briefly met with hers with a wary flicker before he trained them on his feet. Reluctantly, he walked up the stairs and silently joined her side.

* * *

The strange moment passed as soon as he stood near her and he let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. She opened the door before them and together they stepped into yet another circular chamber. This one was as beautifully faded as the ones before and therefore completely unremarkable. It was a gateway, no more, no less, the ancient's version of an elevator. He stayed as far away from her as possible, idly regarding the passing murals as the lift descended. The elevator came to a juddering stop and the close claustrophobia of the lift opened up to reveal another cavernous room.

As he examined it, it might not be a room at all. It seemed to fade into infinity, though it was too dark for him to properly judge. There was a faint source of light on the far side of the room or cavern as it were. Straining his vision, he realized the lights beyond came from the underground capital where they'd awoken as many months ago. This had to be the other side of the lake. If he squinted hard enough, he could just see the distinctly green lights that illuminated the altar.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim, blue light, he began to pick up more details. They stood on the ruins of the ceremonial part of the temple. It must have been one of the areas not likely seen by the public, even in its own time. Just ten feet in front of him, the floor began to slant slightly, tilting into the lake and disappearing. This temple had sunk. It was at one time, above ground. _Curious_. Encircling the cavern were fallen pillars and broken walls. Testament to whatever traumatic event had felled this once proud place of worship. It had been a long time since anyone had been here, a long time indeed.

There was a hazy, ethereal fog that hung over the entire area. It had the slightest hint of hidden, ancient magic. Swimming with power older and wiser than he could ever hope to be, even the girl in all her glory paled in comparison. What he felt here was the power that created the sun and the stars and the earth beneath his feet. He felt almost at peace here, if it weren't for the girl at his side...and feelings of deep melancholy surfaced from within. This was a sacred place and he did not belong.

The girl exited the platform first, her eyes wandering over the room curiously. He followed cautiously behind her, keeping an eye out for anything that might attack. Not that he'd get his hopes up. The city seemed to be ruthlessly peaceful.

With a momentary sense of apprehension, he watched the girl as she moved towards what looked to be a low table. She approached it and in one graceful movement, she sat down, her dress pooling around her. He paused not far away from her, but not near either. She glanced at him when he hadn't joined her, a bit annoyed by his reluctance to do much of anything. Making her gaze more piercing, she tried to catch his eye to no avail. His sudden and continual evasiveness bothered her more than she liked to admit. She coughed lightly to get his attention, though she was tempted to just shout his name. Somehow, in here, that seemed inappropriate. He turned, his eyes again focusing somewhere over her shoulder, as if he were looking at her other, invisible head. At least he was paying attention this time.

With a soft sigh, she spoke"You sort of...need to sit down..."

Gently, she gestured to the space just across from her, on the other side of the table. He hesitated, staring where she'd indicated as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. She could barely see it...but his eyebrows sort of...twitched. There were lines of tension all over his face and his posture was erect...almost too straight. _Was he nervous_?...She looked away, perceiving where his discomfort came from. It was funny to realize that he was as uncomfortable with her as she was with him. The thought was almost comforting...

The rustle of his clothing resounded noisily in his ears as he moved to join the girl. Carefully, he sat down across from her, crossing his legs into the lotus position, familiar to him after years of meditation. He adjusted himself until he was comfortable, well, as comfortable as he could be considering the circumstances. With a heavy sigh, he set his hands on his knees to stop his hands from playing nervously with his sleeves. Strange that he had so much control over everything else...but that. _Damned traitorous appendages_...he thought grimly.

The girl fumbled with her sleeve, as if she were retrieving something quite precious from it. He watched the spectacle intently, glad for the distraction. Her hands appeared from the folds of fabric. In her right, she held the white materia and it was glowing brilliantly. It illuminated the dark cavern, painting the shadows a pale, powder blue rather than the icy indigo that had flooded it before. He'd never seen any materia glow that brightly before, it was almost blinding in its intensity. What puzzled him was that it hadn't even glowed that brightly when he retrieved it from the lake. And it had been serving as a beacon then. It had to be this place, he realized...or perhaps it only worked that way in the hands of its rightful owner. Either way, it was odd.

The girl didn't seem to notice or maybe she didn't care. She simply placed the materia on the pedestal in front of her without a word of explanation. Then she held out her hands, palms facing upwards. After about a second of confused thought, he realized something very important...something that he didn't like the idea of at all. Sephiroth looked at her outstretched hands, staring at them, knowing all the time what she wanted him to do. His eyes flickered to her face as he considered this. She was afraid but willing to do what she had to; it was ritual obligation to her. The idea of touching him...it made her nervous and fearful and she clearly didn't want to do it. It disgusted her.

There was no surprise, no piercing pain in that realization. No question as to how or why he knew this. It was a simple, unalterable fact and he placidly accepted it. She _should_ feel that way about him. He killed her. Who in their right mind would want to touch their murderer?

No, no. It was no surprise at all. This surprise he felt was all his own. Seeing her outstretched hands as they trembled in front of him...seeing the stricken look on her face...the repressed disgust...It hurt, moreover, it hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd caused that pain. He deserved her disgust...deserved every last insult she could throw at him. How had he been so foolish? Deluding himself with thoughts of pride and honor. Foolish, foolish man. He had no honor and no pride to speak of, the look on this girl's face was tacit evidence of that. His fault...that...everything...it was his fault...and there was no way for him to ease her pain...and if there was no way to ease hers...then...and it all hurt. It hurt so very much...and his own words upon first awakening slapped him in the face.

_There is no redemption for me...Nothing I say...Nothing I do will redeem me...My sin is too great._

He looked down at his hands. To the naked eye, they looked clean but they were stained. Marred by all the blood he'd spilt. He carried his sins on these hands. What right did he have to touch her? She...she was pure. As much as he disliked her personally...that didn't disguise the fact that she _was_ better than him. She had every right to hate and revile him. And no matter how he tried to justify it, he had no right to ask her not to. Her heart was pure, even now, and the only speck of hate she had she deserved to hold onto. It was her hate of him...he deserved it. This was what he held back...the things he didn't want to think about. The truth he didn't want to admit.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hands up, examining his palms. How much blood had he washed from these hands? Too much. Too much. His hands, they were inconsequential mounds of flesh and bone, given life to destroy. That was his purpose. To destroy. The reason he'd been created in the first place and he did his job so well, didn't he? He had no right. No right at all. He was nothing...no one...And drawing his hands away, he closed his eyes tightly and languorously opened them again, as he set them back on his knees. He turned his head away, refusing to meet her gaze despite the fact that he could feel her staring at him. Those green eyes, flashing with life and light, bored into him but it made no difference in his attitude.

There was mild curiosity as to why she'd proffer herself as if she needed help. Why would she need his help? Other than to protect her...that was his only duty...wasn't it? To protect. It was a joke...because killing was all he was good at. There was curiosity...but no real desire to pursue the answer to its logical conclusion. It was probably just a courtesy, some sort of expected, ritual gesture that was used in the casting of a spell. Most likely, it had nothing to do with him at all and he'd only presumed he had some part in it. It was best if he just sat here quietly and try his best not to bother her, while she did...whatever it was she was here to do. Sephiroth contented himself with this, accepting his painful and weary isolation in this unlikely alliance. Looking out over the lake, he tried to focus on the lights in an attempt to draw himself away from his reopened wounds.

Suddenly, he felt her hands over his and forgetting to control himself, he flinched. His head snapped in her direction and he looked at her with startled fury, which softened when he saw the fear drawing in her eyes. There was a long and uncomfortable pause, where her hands remained on top of his and they just stared at each other. Aeris was the first to recover with a timid but gentle smile. She clasped her hands around his and drew them away from his body. Holding them out over the table and the white materia set in its center. He wanted very badly to pull away and the desire was so violent that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself. Tensing, he tried to pull away slowly, not wanting to hurt her. She clasped his hands more tightly, and he could just feel her nails as they dug into his skin. The girl was not going to let go without a fight.

"Don't." She commanded softly, giving him another warning squeeze.

It pained her to do that, he could tell. But it was necessary. Her head hurt, her heart hurt...her everything...She didn't want to do this but her duty had to be fulfilled and she needed his help. The spells she cast earlier had drained her terribly and there was no way she'd complete a third. Not without having to use a secondary foundation of power. She'd have to use someone as an anchor to the spell. Someone with enough magical power that she wouldn't drain them completely and being that he was the only one here and he happened to have enough power. Well, there really wasn't a choice. Though she was unwilling to let him in on this fact.

"...I can't...I can't do this alone...we have to work together, okay? So quit being so stubborn and just work with me..." She whispered fiercely, annoyed to see that he wasn't looking at her...again.

She squeezed his hands and shook them to get his attention and was satisfied only when he finally met her gaze. He nodded tightly and settled in, allowing the contact while trying to discern how much touching was too much. Neither of them was terribly comfortable. The whole experience was awkward and difficult, and both wanted it to just be over.

Aeris took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. An almost immediate calm suffused her being, and it was plainly visible on her face. She took comfort from the well of power within her, leaving Sephiroth to ponder what the hell his part in all this might be. The girl wasn't forthcoming. So, he followed suit and closed his eyes as well. If for no other reason than to pretend she wasn't there.

Airy, uncertain peace descended upon him with a languid, carefree stride, teasing him with its nearness while it danced just out of reach. It remained hard to find, distracted as he was by the girl's presence. This was not to discount the general dank atmosphere of the chamber. The floor was cold and a little damp and he seemed to be more affected by such things as of late. There was an unpleasant tingling in his feet and his knees ached, of all the things in the world. A breeze flitted past the back of his neck, moving a single strand of hair. It glided across his skin and at first, it wasn't bothersome. But after awhile it began to annoy and then itch. It took everything in him not to interrupt the ritual and scratch it.

It was then that it dawned on him. The physical link between them felt like shackles. Her hands held him down, manacling him to his well deserved guilt. The desire to break her hold was never stronger. As his mind detached, he had the irrational feeling that she was an anchor, weighing him down in an attempt to drown him. For a fleeting moment, he panicked and struggled against his own efforts to meditate. It was only by sheer force of will that he kept the volatile emotion in check.

After another short struggle, he felt himself go blank and gradually each thought became less coherent. Focusing on his breathing, he allowed the world to fall away. He let the images and words that filtered through his mind pass, melting away until all was blank. A deep, black calm surrounded him and he slipped into it. The strains of a forgotten melody, purposely struck from his memory, winded its way into the darkness, invading it. The lilting cadence of the song brought sweet light into his cavernous thoughts. It was the dawning tide as it crested over the rocks and the sand. The placid ocean as the sun peeked over the horizon, shifting the shimmering waters from the inky black of night to the iridescent glow of day. The melody ebbed and flowed within him, over him, catching him as it would an errant piece of driftwood. Like the wood, he was helpless to resist it and he allowed the song to claim him.

He dimly realized it wasn't a song at all; it was the voice of the planet that overwhelmed him. But he was quite past caring. He had let it seep in. It came as a small trickle of power but soon he was consciously aware as that trickle became a stream. The song was all around him and he didn't even try to resist it. Like a drowning man, he accepted his fate and allowed the waters to flow over him. Words came with the song and the melody took shape, becoming more powerful than it had before. And it was very familiar. Painfully, he realized where he remembered it from but it was well past the point of no return.

The melody had coiled around him and with it came the familiar light of the lifestream and all the memories it brought with it. He was pulled gently into the dreams he had wanted to forget. The last vestiges of rational thought, he wondered if there was someone up there that was enjoying this. He hoped so. This whole affair had been artfully executed to make sure he was punished thoroughly. Showing him these fleeting visions of peace and tranquility, only to rip them away...yes, artfully executed. They taunted him with the proverbial carrot on a string and jackass that he was, he took the bait without a second thought.

What beautiful torture heaven had created for him.

The misery he felt was quelled by the song and all previous worries were submerged, sinking deep within the powers that filled him. He felt a sharp tug and then erupting agony, as if his soul were being wrenched from him. And then he was lost in the light and the true bliss of nothingness.

Guardian and Summoner became as one once more. These twin souls were twining in an everlasting dance that was heedless of time or the useless human barriers between them as nothing mattered but the dance. The sun could refuse to shine, the sea could dry and turn to dust, the mountains could crumble, their memories could be wiped away but always, they'd find their way back here. And with this realization, the energy that connected them twisted a second knot around them, tightening the bond. As the knot tied, slow waves of power ebbed off the intertwined souls. They were so lost in the dreamtime that they barely understood the significance of the dance and the power they released in their wake. It rushed out of them, connecting to their mortal bodies and flowing outward. Tiny, dancing motes of light slowly rose from the ground. They gratefully whirled into giddy motion, having been dormant for so many years. Wavering around the silent figures, they set about waking the sleeping temple around them in anticipation of the ritual to come.

Carefully, the planet's song let them go or perhaps they let go of it. Whichever it was, he felt half of the song being drawn away into its other husk, leaving him feeling empty and alone. No longer whole. How long he'd endured the dance, he'd never know and part of him didn't really want to. If it were quantified, he felt that the experience might be tainted, seeming inadequate for its brevity. He wanted to remember the feelings of warmth and happiness as being something more long lasting. Even if it was a lie...it was a lie he could deal with. True, the feelings of complete serenity couldn't last forever...but it was nice to pretend as if they would. As if to test this theory, the pleasant after effects of the dance faded sooner than he liked and he felt its loss acutely.

His senses returned as he sluggishly woke, tearing away the remnants of the dream. He was groggy and unsure. It vaguely reminded him of the times he'd awaken after having been drugged for various experiments that were too painful to remain awake for, even for him. He'd always hated waking up, as it was really the worst part of sleeping. There was always that strange time in between full wakefulness and sleep, where nothing seemed real and yet, you hover precariously in the real world. And eventually, you break away and there's always those first few confusing moments, where you adjust to the waking world and leave your dreams behind.

He was there right now...fighting to remain inside himself. Purposefully not opening his eyes to deny his waking senses so that he could pretend, if only for a few extra moments, that he was still asleep. But he could no longer hold back the truth. He was awake. He could feel the girl's hands and the aching cold all around him. It should have been more disconcerting to him, but it wasn't. The simple melody that soothed him in the dreamtime remained, though it was not as pervasive nor as potent.

He opened his eyes and they widened, as if seeing the world for the first time. While he was unaware the room around them had changed. Structurally it was the same. It was still strewn with rubble and crumbling but it was no longer the dim, dull place they'd entered. The magic that was so cleverly ferreted away had been awakened. The white materia had gone out and the room should have been in darkness again, but it wasn't. Every crack in the wall, every stone, the whole place pulsated with an eerily soft light. It traveled the walls in bright rivulets, trickling like an ever-glowing stream of energy that trailed upwards.

The mist that had hung over the lake had begun to dissipate, flowing forward as it cleared itself. As the mist dispersed, a line of light gathered on the far side of the room. And from this effulgent line, darted the same playful motes of light. They twisted around the room, their paths erratic as if they were driven off course by a phantom wind. Sephiroth watched with slight disinterest as one mote made a low pass over the lake. Nearly dipping into the freezing water, it pulled up at the last minute and continued towards the shore, its light reflecting brightly on the glassy surface of the lake.

Fox fire. Who hadn't heard of the natural phenomenon that was generally blamed for most ghost and UFO sightings? But...this hardly seemed natural. The motes of light seemed too alive; they moved too independently to be a mere phosphorescent trick. As if to prove this, the lights moved in closer and began to dance around them with almost mischievous delight. They teasingly would float close to him, then flit away suddenly. Twining around his form they sometimes grazed him as they passed; sometimes doing everything in their power not to touch him, like it all was a game to them. Sephiroth watched in undisguised awe as the tiny lights twisted in the air. It was, simply put, breathtaking. One of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

His eyes were drawn to the girl as a particularly bright orb curled around her entire body lazily. There was a time when such simple beauty had been beyond him. If he had seen this in years past, he would have filed it away as a scientific curiosity and with ruthless efficiency he would have just as quickly forgotten it. The self that had been asleep all these years had finally awakened and it saw for the first time, and in doing so, it thanked the gods for this opportunity. Even if it was painful.

The girl was still asleep, deeply entranced in a dream of her own. Her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed, even as more lights twisted around her. Then he realized something very important, he hadn't let her hands go immediately, as he should have. He was hit by a second realization as he looked down. Their hands had become intertwined more tightly than they had before. They were clasped closely together and he stared at them with blank incomprehension. What made his confusion worse, was that it actually felt...comfortable.

He shook his head, as if to do so would negate the thought. His mind was still hazy and unaware, and he chalked up his behavior to simple exhaustion. He'd pushed himself very hard, forgetting he was closer to being fully human now. Yet, for reasons he was unable and unwilling to fathom, he allowed himself to continue to clasp onto her hands. Perhaps, he pondered, it was because if he was to let her go that would mean that the dream was indeed over.

He contented himself to watch, not thinking about the possible consequences of allowing the forbidden. The minutes ticked away and he let them, a panicked calm settling over his soul as he did so. Every minute he sat here doing nothing moved him closer to the end of this moment. But all things eventually end...

It was nice and he didn't care to interrupt it. Sitting here, he could pretend as if he was useful for more than just his ability to kill. It was almost like he wanted to help her. Examining the strange feelings, he wondered how much of these thoughts were his and how much were some instinct driven into him by the planet's voice. In the final analysis, he decided it didn't matter. A strange kernel of hope had blossomed in his chest at the idea, as absurd as it was. It quieted quickly but it was there all the same. Helping her. He admitted inwardly that it wouldn't be so bad and part of him was sure he was supposed to.

Lying to himself again.

He knew he was supposed to help her. The urge to catch her when she fell had been strong and his failure had continued to plague him. But...things were hardly that simple. He wouldn't mind so much if it were like this. Quiet and peaceful. But it wouldn't be like this. It was just a lull in the misery and the minute she woke, the tranquility of the moment would be broken. The dream would be over and he'd have to feel the strain of their awkward relationship, if it could be called that.

Sadly, he looked down at their intertwined hands. He had no right, but he wouldn't let go. He never thought there'd be a time in his life when he would enjoy something like this. Especially with someone like her. _I have no right_...his brows knit tightly as he resolved to release her but his recalcitrant hands paid no mind. He had no right, no right at all but he couldn't let go. It was a strange, foreign feeling that sucked the breath from his chest. He was unsure if it was, and even more sure if it were as unwelcome as he first perceived. Perhaps indulging it would reveal the answer, though he figured it'd be better to just forget it. To let go of her hands and pretend he hadn't felt at all, but he didn't. It was easier to just give in, rather than pretending to fight his emotions, at least while she wasn't awake or aware.

Relaxing a bit, he gazed at her face again, readying himself for when he'd have to escape her grip. Studying her face, he concluded that she looked quite happy at the moment. He wondered what she might be dreaming of. Frowning, he realized she was probably dreaming of the puppet. He sighed, not letting the thought push any farther forward. She was happy, and that was all that mattered. Her features were tranquil and she had a tiny little smile on her face that tipped the edges of her mouth just slightly upward. It spoke of sweet innocence and added to her already angelic appearance.

He reflected that she was much easier to deal with when asleep. If only she'd smile like that when awake. It'd be so much easier if he were invisible...or perhaps someone else. Then she'd smile and be happy. He smiled wistfully, imagining that this whole affair would be much easier if she were happy. The truth invaded the dream. He was a fool and if he had thought he'd known regret before, he was sadly mistaken. Never in his life had he regretted anything more than that one fatal moment. And shame welled up from within, shame that he allowed himself to be used. Shame that because of the sin of his error, innocence herself suffered...and just as his pained smile faded, she opened her eyes.

Looking directly at him, he froze on the spot. It was so sudden he hadn't had time to let her go. Now he was caught not only looking at her while she slept, but holding her hands as if he had any right to. He was caught and like a beaten dog, he obiedently waited for her reaction. Not caring whether it was good or bad, knowing that whatever it was, it was bound to be...Her eyes held his firmly and he could do nothing but fall into them. There was warmth there and he was so startled at the realization that his mouth dropped open slightly.

In a moment that was ethereally slow, a light breeze rippled through the cavern. It gently tugged at her hair, lifting up her bangs so that they flickered temptingly across her face. Her skin glowed in the soft blue light; it was as pale as polished porcelain which was in direct contrast to her dark hair, made to look even darker in the dim cavern light. The motes of light gathered near her, twisting and dancing around the girl in this twilight of the dreamtime. Their flickering illumination made her features more fey than they already were. Her face, her entire being becoming a hazy picture, the light that surrounded her becoming blurred, as if she were an object to bright to be captured. The motes of light twined one last time around her before drawing away, floating back towards the lake.

The wind rippled her hair fiercely and in that moment, she gazed at him and she smiled. Reflected in her eyes was the ageless wisdom she'd absorbed mere hours earlier. If he looked closely, he could almost see the words within them. He knew then that it wasn't just the girl who was looking at him. She wasn't alone in her body. The power of this place was driving her. His mouth snapped shut and the sorrow that was temporarily forgotten, returned. She saw his reaction and understood it as sorrow of her own flickered through her eyes. He knew at once that it was directed at him. He was pitied. Not by her. Never by her...but by the whatever guided her. Her smiled widened slightly and she squeezed his hand once before looking away slowly. He followed her gaze to the lake, which was brightly illuminated by thousands of the little motes of light.

They looked liked fireflies as they buzzed over the water's surface. Their tiny reflections becoming pinpoints of moving light, like stars moving in fast forward. The line of light that had formed at the far end of the lake became brighter. It was so bright that Sephiroth had to squint just to look at it comfortably. While he was entranced by the light, the girl stirred. It was the sound of jingling bells that drew his attention. That, and the sudden lack of warmth that came when she released his hands and stood up wordlessly.

She walked to the edge of the lake, each step she took rang hollowly in the empty cavern. The chiming sound echoed off the walls, igniting the air with the pounding chorus of bells. Something about it stirred the magic in this place and he was unaware of it at first. But slowly, he felt the cavern respond to the chiming. It started as a soft thrumming, deep and inexplicable. All illusions were cast off as the melody he'd only heard in his head began to sing aloud. The thrumming was joined by what could only be described as the sound of a million different voices, singing all at once. It was the planet's song, given life in this dead city...this fallen temple.

The girl stopped at the edge of the lake and stood there for what seemed like ages. She didn't say a word, merely staring out at the water as if she were listening to the planet's song. Perhaps contemplating its words. For a good long time, he just watched her, unsure what was going on and what he should do. He didn't know exactly what his part in all this was, as he didn't have anything to guide him as she did. There was a tightening feeling in his chest and he frowned at it. It felt like something akin to fear...or trepidation maybe and it bothered him. Her standing there like that bothered him. It was like she was hypnotized...something was drawing her to it. The thought made him wary of the sudden transformation that he'd taken such delight in. He stood up suddenly, slowly joining her side.

The girl didn't flinch as he approached, didn't even acknowledge that he was there at all, even when he stood right next to her. Her features were softened and dreamy, her smile having faded, leaving behind her sorrow. She blinked languidly. The wind stirred again, twisting the motes of light across the lake like falling snow. They tumbled in lazy arcs, unable to resist the demanding push of the wind. It diverted his attention and as he gazed at the unusual sight, the girl stepped forward.

With frightening slowness, her foot lifted up and she calmly began to walk to the water's edge. Her foot just edged into the water when he finally took notice. Alarmed, he set a hand on her shoulder as if to stop her. And stop her he did. For long minutes she stood, the water lapping over her feet. His hand remained on her shoulder to restrain her. He was beginning to worry. The girl wasn't going to step back and he was afraid he'd have to remove her forcibly.

Then he felt her hand sliding over his as she turned. She clasped it and squeezed, waiting for him to return the gesture. He felt a knot form in his throat as he looked at her and with a heart beating to explode, he squeezed back. She smiled again, standing there for an eternity with her eyes locked on his. The breeze lifted her long hair up so that it trailed around her, seeming to float as if underwater. With one last squeeze, she moved away. Her hand still held his as she turned and slowly walked into the water. He could feel each individual finger as she let her hand slip from his. He could feel the warmth her skin left on his dissipate.

His hand stayed outstretched as he watched her, only just realizing after she left his side that she wasn't walking into the water...but on it.


	12. As Tears Go By

_You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which _

_you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to _

_yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that _

_comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do._

_--Eleanor Roosevelt_

Steady beating rivulets of water dripped as she lifted her feet, setting one in front of the other in a motion that was almost as numbing as the cold lake beneath them. Her fingers snuck inside her sleeves, purposefully entangling themselves in scarves wrapped around her wrists. One more secret intertwined with this ritual, one more thing she shouldn't know but did. The voices of the ancients filled her mind with a primeval song, full of melancholy and loss. A song that hadn't been sung in ages, its time was long over. It had crumbled with the building, forgotten once the people who sang it passed into legend.

And now only she could hear its sweet echo. She was the last, always the last, always the one to hear these stray strings of the past plucked by ancient ghostly fingers, the only one who could hear their soundless melody. Aeris felt the desolation sink straight into her heart. All the pain and longing she'd held back flooded to the surface. She'd held it back, all the while lying to herself by trying to act strong. Pretending to be what she wasn't and what for? To prove something to someone who she in her heart of hearts hated, pitied and feared.

With a grace she didn't feel, she walked across the surface of the lake. There was no surprise in her movement; it was as if she'd done it a thousand times. Had she been more herself and less overcome by the voices of her ancestors, she would have probably been quite startled. As it was, she walked calmly towards the very center of the wide, black lake, drawn there by a lilting song from long ago. On the inside, she'd never felt so inadequate, so small. Not since her last day on earth.

Her feet were cold and the voices that once calmed her, made her feel less alone, seemed only to punctuate her alienation and sorrow. Each step she took resounded through the cavern, mixing with the rising song from the lifestream. The small anklets on her feet were part of a long ceremonial tradition in Cetran rituals. They served to call the gods attention and chase away malicious spirits. They were also very loud and unconsciously, she'd tried to soften her steps. But the sacred call of those bells could not be silenced and every step she took sang back to the spirits in the chamber. They drifted up from the deep to twine around her, caressing her with their soft light and warm will.

And with each footfall she left a trail of shining ripples that gradually undulated outward. They fanned out behind her in a gentle wake, bumping into each other and creating ripples upon ripples as they moved towards the shore. She almost wished she could see her feet beyond the multiple layers of her dress so she could watch the ripples expand underneath her. Instinctively, she looked down at the surface of the lake, once more glad that all she could feel was the song within her. Had Aeris been alone in this moment, she was sure that she'd be afraid of the placid but endless void that she walked on.

She closed her eyes and listened more closely. Her skirts made a pleasant 'shkrshing' sound as she walked. This sound was also added to the chorus singing around her. Her breathing was measured, as were her steps and she had the look about her of a bride, slowly walking up the isle towards her groom...but infinitely more sorrowful.

And for a moment, she paused. She wavered on her feet, her lips moving wordlessly as she conversed with those ancient voices. This was the spot. This is where they wanted her to go. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, summoning every bit of strength she had in her. It was very much like the day she died. She was having the same war within herself. The same fears and trepidation plagued her, along with the heightened sense of inadequacy that she'd fostered within herself. Every flicker of emotion that'd carry her was culled from memory, so that she knew what she was fighting for in this moment. It was easy to forget why you had to do something when dread takes a hold of your heart.

And it had firmly implanted itself into Aeris.

Worse than any of that was the constriction she felt in her chest. The urge to cry was so great but was so skillfully held back that it hurt worse than anything she could imagine. Her hand slowly touched the scar she'd gotten from her first life. It throbbed quietly and she massaged it, remembering--for only the briefest moment--when a sword had torn through her. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as she thought it would have.

Closing her eyes tightly, she couldn't do this. Her free hand fisted the fabric of her skirt and she lifted her face up to look at a sky that wasn't there. She sucked in a small bit of air and choked back the sob she felt rise from her throat. This would do no good. Hadn't she gotten through with this? No one voice answered her silent pleas. There were no comforting words, not even an ambiguous command to spur her forward. They could sing all they wanted but it was up to her to do what she had to. It was a weight she didn't wish to bear and not for the first time, she wished with all her heart that it could be taken away.

A bitter wind buffeted her body as she stood as still as the lake beneath her feet. It lifted her clothes and her hair, which tangled in the breeze before gently falling back into place. The wind blew again, this time more languidly. It skipped across the water like a stone, small flakes of snow tumbling behind it. She shivered.

_Please_.

Just one word, whispered with tender desperation from deep inside her as she opened her eyes again and let the tears she held back drifted carefully down her porcelain cheeks. This was her last chance. Once she started the ritual there was even less of a chance that she could turn back and return to heaven. She was here forever or until her duty was done. Whichever came first.

_Please_.

She begged, whispering it to the wind as brushed past her. And she was answered by nothing. She was alone and the song that had been silenced left her but the wind called out hollowly from the walls. It had answered her in the song's stead. There would be no turning back ever. Her face crumpled, pained with the knowledge that it was already too late. It had been too late for a very long time. The song intertwined seamlessly with the wind and made her realization more poignant as it infiltrated her senses.

It made her feel life. All of it. From the smallest speck of algae floating in the ocean to the largest creatures that roamed the land unchecked and she was aware. Aware of herself. Aware of the other heart that beat in the same chamber with her. Aware of all the hearts and lives that pulsed above and below and in-between. And a lucid calm suffused her as she realized this awareness and accepted it. She was aware, more aware than any being had ever been in the long history of the planet. She could not turn away from it, no matter how much it hurt her heart to be here. Her hand moved from her old wound to her chest and she sighed.

The wind picked up one last time before it drifted away, allowing the ancient voices of the temple to softly continue their song without interruption.

Slowly, she turned, her skirts gently shifting with the movement. With slow, practiced steps, she began the dance. It was as old as this temple and as forgotten. Her movement was ritually slow, each step, each flicker of her hands made as a subtle supplication to the spirits that dwelled within the temple. With a graceful twist of her wrist, the sashes hidden inside her sleeves were flicked out. The sheer fabric twined sinuously around her body as she spun across the slick surface of the lake. They made images in the air, punctuating her motion and shattering the hollow emptiness of the cavern. A spinning figure made of clear color on a dark, glassy lake, illuminated by twining globes of light.

It was all too surreal but at the same time beautiful in its otherworldliness. To the lone observer in the cavern, it was beyond surreal. It was like a dream, too ephemeral to be anything but. He did not know how privileged he was to see this ritual. He didn't understand the history behind it. Nor did he know that this dance hadn't been performed in well over ten thousand years...and that he had been the first human since then to witness it. He was silently grateful and quietly awed as the willowy figure of the girl moved across the water with timeless grace.

She didn't notice this, or much of anything, as her entire being was concentrated on the ritual.

Her hands and feet moved without her order. They followed the imprint of the dance as it flowed through her. And as she danced, she let out every emotion she'd felt through the long months she'd been here. Every moment of shadowed sorrow. Every frustration. The deep, aching loneliness that seemed to consume her, that too found its way into her movement. Everything was shunted into the motions that became the dance that became the ritual.

She thought of all she gave up, everything she lost and the little she gained. She thought of Cloud. Of Tifa. Barrett. All of them. She thought of the lost, unlucky souls in Midgar. She thought of the man who was her guardian. And she wept.

Her tears shone out before her and her sight was enveloped in light as the song that surrounded her came to a crescendo. With one last, languid turn, she knelt to the ground, letting her skirts swirl to a stop around her. She spread her hands wide and let go, allowing the sashes she held to be released. They fell upon the surface of the lake and swiftly sunk to the bottom, intertwining as they were dragged downward. The bright crimson dye that colored the sashes bled into the water, twining 'round and 'round. This color unfurled like an opening flower and all was white. Aeris shut her eyes tight, unable to take the intense light that surrounded her.

And when she opened her eyes, there was nothing but the black, bottomless lake and a light that seemed to come from just beyond its horizon. This light bathed everything in stark whiteness made only slightly more bearable to look at by the soft mist that hung off the water. Aeris blinked numbly a few times before rising to look around her. Momentarily, she wondered if she'd done the ritual incorrectly because there didn't seem to be anything here.

From the white and the mist, the goddess uncurled herself, opening like the self same flower that had brought Aeris here in the first place. She hovered just above the lake, her entire figured shrouded in a luminescence so complete that she was blinding in her radiance. Aeris stared at the figure all in white, her mouth hanging open in awe. The Goddess stared back. She didn't move, barely blinked. The Goddess's clothing moved for her. It curled around her, driven by a wind that only she could feel. To Aeris, it almost seemed alive and she could do nothing but stare at it, frozen by her own fascination. Whatever had guided her had left.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do. The bright whiteness began to fade around her until all was dark but for the shining radiance that was the Goddess, heightening her feelings of confusion. She didn't know if she'd succeeded or failed much less what she should say to the shrouded woman in white. Anything that came to mind sounded too childish or just plain stupid. Her thoughts were pierced by the soft voice of the Goddess.

"Come forward, Lady Summoner."

It took a moment for Aeris to realize the woman hadn't spoken with her mouth. It was the first time since she'd been alive that something like that had happened. And it was quite disconcerting. Still in shock, her mouth moved numbly as she gapped like a fish, trying to form words that just weren't there. The Goddess could only smile softly, holding out a welcoming hand. It cut through the mist and was a pinpoint of light in the dark, a beacon that guided her to tranquil waters. Aeris walked forward with trepidation. The Goddess noticed this and could only smile wider. She let her hand down as Aeris neared but the aura of pure, comforting warmth didn't dissipate.

"Welcome, High Summoner Aeris." The Goddess intoned, her voice a soft and lilting wind. "It is good to finally meet you."

"Likewise..." Aeris whispered back.

All the uncertainty that had been pushed back by the voices of the ancients came back. Even the waves of comfort the Goddess sent her couldn't wave it away. She felt like a child that had gotten into trouble and was only waiting for their parent's inevitable tirade. Although she didn't know for sure, she had managed to convince herself that she'd failed. The Goddess had been sent to berate her for her indolence. She had wasted so much time fighting her duty. What a fool she'd been!

"You are no fool." The Goddess said, laughingly. "A bit foolish, perhaps. But not a fool. I anticipated this task would be hard for you. We all did. We also know that you are stronger than you'd like to think, Lady Summoner. This is why you are here now."

Words of comfort meant nothing. She had to know now whether or not she'd be spending the next few months in this awful place with that man. Playing cryptic word games didn't solve that particular problem.

"Did...did I fail?" She asked brokenly, supposing the worst.

"Why do you not ask if you succeeded? Why do automatically assume failure?"

"Because...I...just tell me..."

"Tell you what? You should know. This is your plane of existence, Lady Summoner. Your world, not mine. I may be a Goddess, but in this world...I serve only you. _You_ summoned _me_. " The Goddess said, putting particular emphasis on each word so that they were weighted heavily, "_You_ are _my_ better, not the other way around. You owe me no fealty. No supplication. If you want answers, seek them in yourself."

Aeris could almost cry. She could feel the hot tears form at the edge of her eyes and blindly she glanced around to look for something, anything that'd help her. She was grasping for something that she couldn't find at first. There was no grand demonstration of her epiphany. No swirl of magic, no change in the wind. She just knew. She felt it in her heart, where a single thread that wasn't there before tightened itself around her own. But if she'd succeeded...

"Why am I here?" She asked the Goddess.

A cold wind blew and knotted their hair. Sending it into a whirling frenzy as it danced over the lake and the Goddess smiled once more. Her shining white hair curled around her pale body, rippling alongside the sheer fabric of her dress. This close, Aeris could better observe the Goddess's features and had wondered to herself why she hadn't. She'd momentarily forgotten her question as she'd become lost in the Goddess's eyes. One was bright blue, like the deep, endless ocean. The other was a deep green, much like her own. They twinkled with inhuman vivacity, seeped in magic that seemed older than the earth itself.

"Why _are_ you here?"

The Goddess's voice startled her out of her reverie. Aeris paled for a moment, not expecting to have her question turned back on her. She swallowed hard as she tried to come up with something that didn't sound stupid. All the while, the Goddess watched patiently.

"I...I don't..." Aeris replied, struggling with herself and her recalcitrant tongue.

"...You don't know." She stated, seeming stern and understanding at the same time.

Nodding numbly, Aeris looked up at the Goddess with wide eyes that shone with shame. What a disappointment she was. The last of the Cetra and yet so inadequate...

"There is no shame in not knowing one's purpose. You know more than most." She said with a knowing smile, "Consider yourself lucky."

"I don't. I don't understand...what I am supposed to do?" Aeris asked, feeling more desolate by the moment.

If the Goddess didn't know, then who would? Why all these games? She'd had enough of it. They brought her back...for this? What was the point?

"You protect."

"Protect?"

"Yes. You protect. _That_ is the point. _That_ is what you are supposed to do. And it is why you are here. An old enemy has resurfaced. One we all thought was vanquished long ago. That is why I am here. I was the last and now you are." The Goddess spoke with breathless urgency, imparting with all her being the importance of her words, "There has not been one of our kind upon the earth for ten thousand years, since I defeated sin itself. But in my arrogance, I thought that it was the end. I was wrong. Now, it falls to you. For my penance, I will not rest until this task is accomplished..."

"You...were the last Cetra? But I thought..."

"No, not the last Cetra. The last true Summoner." The Goddess replied softly, "Now, you are both."

"Summoner...What does that mean? The planet called me that before..."

"It is an ancient title. _Your _title and now _your_ purpose. You call upon the spirits of this planet to protect it. You are an extension of its will. Its heart and without your strength, it will surely die." The Goddess paused, looking down at the young woman with an indecipherable expression, " A cancer has been growing from within...it was set free twice and was beaten back twice. You know of whom I speak."

"Jenova"

"Yes and no."

"That...doesn't make any sense. Is it Jenova or isn't it?"

"It is worse. Of Jenova but not Jenova. She was only the beginning, the first harbinger. There will be more...like her. And they will try to pull this world into a cycle of death from which there is no escape." She said simply, her bi-colored eyes softening gently with sympathy. The Goddess knew all too well the fight this young woman had ahead of her. She knew the choices that had to be made and mourned that they had to be made once more, "You are all that stands between them and their goal."

"So, pretty much the world's gonna end, unless I stop it." Aeris said, her voice wavering between reluctant acceptance and sarcastic sorrow.

"Pretty much."

"Still doesn't explain why I'm here, though."

"You had questions."

"Which you didn't really answer."

"I'm your guide. Not your teacher." the Goddess kindly chided, "You came here because you wanted to. I showed you the paths, now it is up to you to choose which you will take."

"So...Is that it?" Aeris asked uncertainly.

"No. I have a gift."

"A gift?"

"The road ahead is long. Your journey will be hard."

Aeris gave a short little laugh at that, replying with self-effacing softness, "Yeah, kind of figured that out already."

"This doesn't mean you go alone and unprotected. I will give you a weapon that not even your enemies can stand against."

The Goddess closed her eyes and all around her a wind stirred. It tore at their clothes and hair, violently rippling the water beneath their feet. Aeris could do nothing but gape in awe while she held back her bangs so she could see. She started when she noticed that the water had begun peeling back. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed movement from below. She started in abject fear, letting out an almost silent gasp as the thing from below shot towards the surface at an incredible speed. Unconsciously, she stepped back, trying to hold back her hair and clothes as the vortex around her tightened. The Goddess seemed to hardly notice. Her eyes were still closed in meditation.

The dark water parted abruptly as a formidably dark object burst upward from below. It created a spurting geyser of water that pelted both Goddess and Summoner, drenching both in the process. Aeris didn't see this as the baptism that it was. She was annoyed that she was wet. The city was damnedably cold and she was likely to catch something. At the very least, she'd be terribly uncomfortable. The Goddess was quite amused by the flickering thoughts she caught coming from the Summoner. Was she ever that impetuous?

Looking heavenward, the Goddess watched her gift slowly descend and hover just above the water. It stood between them. Silent, straight and somber. The Summoner had yet to notice the gift. She was too wrapped up in squeezing out the long sleeves of her dress. Her head shot up as the Goddess coughed lightly, gesturing at the gift that stood before her. Aeris's eyes widened in disbelief and then horror, paling at the thing the Goddess _dared_ to call a gift. Yes, it was a weapon, but no gift. No gift at all.

Hovering in mid-air, right in front of her was the instrument of her death. The sword that took her life floated so innocently before her. She felt the bile rise to her throat and she choked it back. Angry tears formed in her eyes and she glared at the Goddess. All the pretense of formality was forgotten. As was all politeness.

"What is this?" She asked coldly.

It wasn't as if she didn't know what it was, she wanted to know why.

The Goddess looked at her somberly, "As I said. It is a gift."

Aeris's jaw tightened, a thin veil of fire forming behind her eyes, "I don't want it."

"Never-the-less, it is yours to take and yours to give. As it always has been and always will be."

"That..." She said slowly, pointing at the sword, "...is an abomination. Just like the thing that wielded it. I might have to travel with him, but I will NOT give him back the very thing that took my life. Of all the insults I've endured, this is by far the worst."

With that, she turned to leave. There was no way she was taking that back. She was glad she'd done things correctly. Glad that the first watchtower had been lit. She was glad that she'd met and conversed with the Goddess, because she knew so much than she had before but she'd be damned to hell before she took that sword with her. The vortex pushed her back and she found herself turned around, staring at the sword and the Goddess once more. With the graceful motion of her fingers, the Goddess summoned the sword. It instantly obeyed her and she caught it, her fingers snapping around the handle as if she were meant to hold it.

Fluidly, she unsheathed the sword as she stared intently forward. Her gaze was locked with the young Summoner, and not once did it waver. Sheath in one hand, sword in the other, the Goddess walked forward, approaching Aeris with a resolute stride. The sword she held was so large that the tip sliced the water behind her. Carefully, she rested the flat edge of the blade on her palm and held it out, so that the young Summoner could examine it for herself. But Aeris refused to look at it. Her stubbornly tearless eyes gazed dully inward and she gritted her teeth. There was no amount of persuasion the Goddess could give that would make her accept this "gift".

"Look."

"No."

"It is not a request. Look, Lady Summoner. Look and see the gift the gods have given you, though you deny it."

The wind stirred once more and with it a flurry of cherry blossoms. Her heart leapt for a moment because she thought that maybe she'd returned to heaven and her mother. But it was all for naught. The Goddess still stood in front of her with that accursed sword held out in her hands. And now she was looking at the damned thing. The Goddess gave her a subtly appraising look. Her eyes looked down at the sword, her expression hooded by a half smile. Languidly, she opened her eyes and pinned her gaze on Aeris with the same small smile on her face. It was soft but hard. Innocent yet wise. Happy and sad. Pitying and sympathetic but commanding and unforgiving. Her smile was like she was, old and young at the same time. A mass of contradictions that seemed to understand, yet upbraided her for childishly holding on to what should have been left behind.

"Look."

And she did. The sword was just as she remembered it. Long and wickedly sharp. It was a cruel weapon, and a cruel fate that the gods would deliver it to her once more. At least this time it wasn't being plunged through her. _Always look on the bright side of life, Aeris_. A small, wry smile appeared on her face that was as sorrowful as it was jaded.

"Every sword has a standard. A common stamp that tells who its maker was. Do you see?"

Without wanting to, she examined the blade at the Goddess's behest. Sure enough, there was a standard stamped into the metal right above the hand guard. An outer circle that surround three smaller inner circles, the very same standard she found in the hall. The same standard imprinted onto both her dress but his haori as well.

"This is your standard. The mark of your house. Sic transit gloria mundi." The Goddess intoned carefully, "So passes the glory of the world. Not with a bang but with a whimper. Such will it be if you do not lose this unwise resistance to your duty. Your standard represents the three planes you protect. Three seeds from a pomegranate. Three levels of life and death. A trinity that to this day has remained unbalanced and as its protector, you have been chosen to seek equilibrium. To finish this final chapter so that humanity can take its place in a world without the god's constant interference."

"...I understand...but how..." Aeris said softly, brokenly, "How can you expect me to accept it so easily? That sword..."

Her lips trembled and she didn't trust herself to speak as tears blurred her vision.

"I see the river Lethe has been with you. You've forgotten..."

"What? What have I forgotten?" She cried, feeling insulted, afraid and alone all at once.

"That which you will remember eventually but it is not for me to tell."

"Why not?"

"It is for you and you alone to remember...no one else has your memories. Your time in heaven has dulled you mind. Our time grows short and there is much more you must know." The Goddess replied commandingly, "This is a holy sword. An instrument of the gods that has been wielded in heaven's service since before even I can remember. Each hand that it has passed to has been meant for this blade. And each hand that wielded it was a servant of heaven themselves."

"You have got to be kidding me. That sword is anything but holy. That sword was used to kill men, women and children for no other reason than its owner was a violently insane monster. And you call it holy." She bit out, her eyes flashing with bright, internal fire, "That...is blasphemy. You've given me not one reason to accept that thing. I don't care what's been carved into it..."

The Goddess looked into her eyes deeply with an emotion approaching sorrowful disappointment. Around them both, a cascade of cherry blossoms tumbled through the air. Those lucky few fell into the water and danced on its surface to be eventually dragged below to the dark bottom of the lake. But for now, they were endlessly spinning. The Goddess dipped the sword into the water and let the current catch around it.

Whenever a blossom came near the sharpened edge, it either brushed by unharmed or was forcefully pushed away from it. Even when the Goddess dragged the blade through the water, aiming for the blossoms, the edge never split even one. All of them floated away whole and unharmed. With a flicker of her wrist, the Goddess lifted the sword and nicked the young Summoner's cheek with the tip. Her hand flew to her cheek in surprise and horror. But when she touched it, there was nothing there. Not even a small scratch. The Goddess held out the mirrored edge of the sword so that she could examine her cheek for herself.

"There's really no scratch..." Aeris said with clear awe in her voice, her hands absently rubbing at that old wound that still hadn't healed, "But...why?"

"When wielded correctly, this sword was meant to protect life. As was its owner. He was fated to defeat Jenova. Not join her. His fate, like your mother's, was twisted...manipulated by those who should serve heaven, but have chosen to unleash hell. They wish to leave and so they have selfishly condemned this world to die, so that they may be free. Would you do the same?" The Goddess asked, the pointed bitterness in her voice was not lost on Aeris, "Many, including myself, have sacrificed much for this one moment. Many have fought and died, all so that the wrongs of the past are rectified, not repeated. I give this to you so that it will finally be wielded in your service. I give this to you, because it and its owner have been much abused. See to it that this time around both are put to better use."

With that, she sheathed the sword with an audible click and held it out to Aeris. Her heart beat a million miles a second as she gazed at the sword and the dying wind. Closing her eyes, she breathed in long and hard to calm the roiling torrent of emotion that raged within. Tears broke from the edge of her eyes and traveled slowly down her cheek. Would it never end? Looking at the Goddess with reddened eyes and a heavy heart, she held out her hand to accept the sword. The Goddess transferred the sword to her, clasping the young Summoner's hands in her own before letting go.

"As I said, you are stronger than you believe yourself to be." She said softly, with a tear streaked smile of her own, "For accepting this burden, I offer you my services. You may call me Eden. Whenever you need me, I will come..."

Aeris felt her lips tremble as a sob broke from between her lips. Tears came more heavily now and she hadn't realized how alone she had felt until this moment. The Goddess's smile widened as large, wet tears stained her cheeks. She reached out with one hand, and cupped the cheek of the Summoner. Her Summoner. Closing her eyes, the smile became warmer as the Goddess faded in a brilliant flash of light. Aeris gave a startled squeak, clutching the sword to her breast in surprise.

The Goddess was gone or at least her physical form was. Aeris felt warmth in her heart that wasn't there before. The planet's song became richer as one more voice was added to it, a gentle layer that was sung sweetly by the Goddess who now resided within. She sniffled, looking glassily at the sword she held in her hands. Never in a million years did she think she'd be holding this sword, in this place...with...And she let the thought fall to the ground and shatter.

Tears were wasted and she wiped them away as the magic around her faded. The flower bloomed and died around her, until she wasn't in an ethereal netherworld but the chamber she'd left behind. A bright light still played on the water and the place the Goddess had once occupied was still illuminated. Looking back and then forward, she tiredly marched across the water and back to her Guardian, who awaited her more anxiously than he'd like to admit.

He saw her from across the water and he wasn't sure what he should do. It had been hours since she began that ritual. Six hours, seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds to be exact. His internal clock was ruthlessly accurate. She'd danced on top of the water for over three of them without pause. Without even breaking a sweat. And while she was dancing a bright light enveloped her. He'd closed his eyes for a moment, unable to stand the brightness of the light and when he'd opened them, she was gone. And in her place was a wall of water that was so thick as to be impenetrable even with his incredible sight. Though to be truthfully, he'd noticed it wasn't as good as it was before but that was beside the point.

She'd been gone for a long time and he didn't like to admit it, but it had worried him. He wasn't about to tell her that, but the feeling did exist and he wasn't blind enough yet to deny it. Moments ago, the wall of water dropped and out of nowhere she appeared. So now here he stood, trying not to fidget, lest he give himself away. He tried to summon his customary detachment but found it damnedably difficult to form. Instead, he allowed himself to be coolly annoyed.

She walked slowly across the lake's surface, oblivious to his agitation. He couldn't see her face very well because the light behind her was still blindingly bright. She held something in her hands, which made him a bit curious but not enough to make a big deal about it. He just wanted her to return so that they could leave this place. Not just this temple but the city itself. While waiting for her for the last few hours he had come to the conclusion that this place unnerved him quite a bit and he couldn't wait to put it far, far behind him. He struggled to keep from tapping his foot impatiently, struggling even harder not to start pacing. It was like she was trying to aggravate him! With a discontented sigh, he folded his arms and stared heavily at her approaching form.

Any annoyance he had dissipated as she came closer. She was obviously quite tired, he could tell from her gait. It was laboriously slow, and she sometimes stumbled, struggling with the ungainly thing she held. And as the light dimmed a bit and she set foot on the shore, his eyes widened at what she held in her arms.

"Masamune..." he whispered softly.

The girl reacted to the sound, her eyes meeting his. Her gaze was piercing. She'd been crying. Her tears had barely dried. Some still hovered at the edge of her eyes. And he could see the hate and the anger inside them, but also the sorrow. He looked away, ashamed. His eyes closed as he felt something akin to a knife being sunk in his chest. He wondered if that's what it felt like for her. No, it was probably much more painful than that. Why did he have to be such a bastard?

Too overwhelmed by guilt, he didn't notice that she'd walked right up to him. Didn't notice that she stood right in front of him, holding out the sword he used to kill her. She coughed lightly to get his attention and if she looked closely enough, she would have seen him flinch at it. Luckily, she didn't. Instead, she watched him open his eyes but not look at her. She watched them flicker to the sword in her hands. She watched a myriad of confused emotion enter them.

He shook his head. He couldn't take it, even though he admitted inside himself that he had missed the sword. There was something strangely calming about the blade. Something about its weight and its feel that made him feel secure. But how could he feel that now, knowing what he'd done with it before? How could he hold that sword, the very one he turned on her...he couldn't. Even he wasn't so cruel.

"Take it." She whispered, sorrow choking her voice.

He shook his head. No power in heaven, earth or hell could make him take that sword.

"Take it."

"No."

"Take the damn sword." She hissed, shoving it violently forward.

"No..." He whispered, vehemently, his brows deeply furrowed.

She sighed, holding it in one hand as she approached him. In the back of his mind, he wondered how she could hold the Masamune with one hand. The sword had always been uncommonly heavy and few had been able to lift it with both hands without effort.

"How are you doing that?" He asked, his curiosity overwhelming his guilt.

"What?"

"Holding it with one hand."

She shrugged.

"Isn't it heavy?"

"No, not really." She answered simply, blatantly confused by his smooth mood change, "So, are you going to take it or what?"

"I..."

"They said it was mine to give. So, I'm giving it to you. I can't use it, someone may as well and seeing how it was yours to begin with..." She said, holding it out by one hand, hilt towards him.

He looked at her and then at it with a wash of pain and guilt that was as deep and dark as the lake behind him. Reluctantly, he reached out and grasped the hilt. He smoothly took the sword from her and attached it to his belt, without even looking at her. There was a long and uncomfortable pause that spanned several minutes. Neither knew what to say or to do. Though both their thoughts ran along the same lines, how were they going to do this? How could they work together after all that had happened? And both dearly wished they were anywhere but here.

Glancing up at her, he met her eyes for one agonized second before looking away, "...I'm sorry."

His deep baritone rung through the empty hall though he spoke in nothing but a whisper. She didn't have the energy for a bitter reply and to be truthful, she just didn't feel it anymore. He was just as stuck as her. As trapped and as used. Tears tried to rouse themselves, but she tamped them down. Looking up, their eyes met with a reluctant kind of acceptance.

"Not nearly sorry enough..." Her lips quirked up into a sad, sad smile, and she whispered tearfully, "...but I guess it'll have to do."

He nodded quietly, breaking away from her gaze to look where he always looked. At the point behind her head. She shook her head and sighed. This was going to be a very long journey. She attempted to walk forward but was hit with a wave of passing dizziness. Closing her eyes, she stopped and held out a hand to steady herself. She'd expended too much energy on that spell and she suddenly remembered the stairs they'd descended to be here. Her head was becoming muddied and there was a buzzing in the back of her eyes that wouldn't quite go away.

She was exhausted, she knew this and she was dreading the walk back up those stairs. But there was no way in HELL she was going to ask for help. Not like he'd notice anyway, with all the looking away he was doing. He just stood there like a big old bump on a log, waiting for her. With a stiff intake of breath, she steeled herself and started to walk forward. Instead she stumbled, wavering on her feet as she felt her knees giving way. A tiny, unhelpful voice in her head suddenly screamed, "You're going to fall again!" And she thanked the unhelpful voice for telling her what she already knew. Her knees buckled, her eyes fluttered and she accepted the downward spiral of motion as she fell forward towards the floor.

What she did not expect was that she stopped just short of hitting said floor. A pair of arms held her own and pulled her up onto her unsteady legs. She let out a puff of air and looked up into the eyes of her guardian, who seemed as startled as she was. Her heart pounded sharply in her chest and she found herself at a loss for words.

She should have said thank you, instead she said, "Let me go, please."

He didn't. Frowning at himself, he tried to come up with a reason for why he wouldn't. Nothing was forthcoming. He wasn't even sure why he darted in front of her to begin with. Maybe it was reconciling the unconsciously conscious guilt he felt over letting her fall earlier. Either way, he'd done it and he wasn't sure if it pleased him. He knew it didn't please her. She kept at it, asking him to let her go, all the while her legs trembled, nearly dissolving with their inability to hold her up.

"I'm fine..." She croaked, even as a heavy lethargy overwhelmed her, "I'm..."

Her legs could no longer hold her and she desperately grabbed onto his arms to stay upright. She didn't want to be here but she didn't want to fall and he was all that stood between her and that. He could feel her arms tremble as she tried to force her body into doing something she was clearly incapable of. She was fighting her own exhaustion merely because she didn't want to depend on him. He didn't really want her to depend on him either but there was little choice in the matter. She'd just cast a rather large spell. It made sense for her to be tired and had she been less stubborn, she'd listen to her body.

"You're exhausted..."

"Thank you, Cap'n Obvious..." She mumbled tiredly, her fingers loosening as she lost her fight with her exhaustion.

Her eyes fluttered and slowly, she went limp, falling forward into his arms. Still half conscious, she tried to push forward towards full consciousness again but her body wasn't having it. Her hands pushed ineffectually against his chest as she mumbled barely understandable objections at him. She didn't want him to touch her, and part of her knew he felt the same.

"D-a-a-a-onnn'tuh..."

Her hand smacked his chest and he was tempted to laugh. Could she be any more intractable? He guessed from what little he knew of her that she could. Her head lolled and her eyes rolled and fluttered for a few more seconds, before she relaxed completely. The girl had passed out. Looking down at her, he wondered what in the world he was to do with her. He arched an eyebrow and sighed, gathering her in his arms. As he positioned her more comfortably in his grasp, he looked over at the lake. He was surprised to see it still slightly illuminated. The spell was clearly done; therefore the effects should have accordingly faded. But they didn't.

He tilted his head and squinted. In the light at the far end of the cavern was a woman all in white and she was looking at him. Her unearthly radiance hung about her like a veil. The woman gazed directly at him and with a smile, her mind whispered to his, "_Take care of her. We will be watching over both of you._.." And then she was gone. Fading like the curling night's mist as the morning sun rises to burn it away. He paused for less than a second and shook his head, holding the girl more tightly as he stood up. She shifted in her sleep more closely to him and he made a grunt of discomfort at the action. But he didn't shy away from it; in fact, he drew her a bit closer with the reasoning in his mind being that it was more comfortable that way. Satisfied, he walked out of the chamber not at all looking forward to the stairs he'd inevitably have to climb with his brand new burden.

In the ever fading light, the Goddess smile softly and hoped against all hope, that what they'd set in motion could be done. That the faith everyone had placed in these two souls was justified.


	13. Remain in Light

_"Because I remember, I despair. Because I remember, I have the duty to reject despair."_

_--Elie Wiesel_

Night came and went, slipping away like a soundless visitor. Bowing out gracefully so that dawn could break, blushing over the horizon with a spectacular display of color. The world was more alive and awake than it had been the day before. Winter was loosening its hold on the land, and the first heralds of new life had begun to show. All around the ancient city, small buds pushed themselves up and out of the ground they'd been planted in so long ago. A thousand years had passed since the last time they'd shown their faces. A thousand years had passed since the first shepherds had locked them beneath the earth. A thousand years they waited to bloom once more. So they sat, biding their time until they were to be drawn from the earth, anticipating the breaking of their seal and the opening of the watchtower. For when it was lit, it meant an end to stagnation and the renewal of all creation.

In the golden dawn, the first of these milk white flowers opened to face the sun. Reaching for the heavens, the small bell-shaped flower unfurled, its head bobbing in the light morning breeze. To the untrained eye, one might mistake the flower for an ordinary snowdrop. And in human terms, it was a variety of that self same flower but bore only a passing resemblance to that earthly bloom. They were more than the pale white flowers that graced mountainside villages. They were brightly luminescent and when the sun hit them just right, they were blindingly white. So incandescent, that it hurt to even look on them.

The cetra had called them _Les Cloches de Notre Dame_..._Our Lady's Bells_, for they believed that the early blooming flowers were meant as a sign from the goddess of creation. Les Cloches were the only flowers that remembered winter, giving up a bit of their color to aid spring's arrival at Lady Creation's request. The tiny flowers were seen as a symbol of hope, because despite the desolation of winter, those blooms pushed up through the snow. Unrelenting, unafraid of the harsh cold, they grew from the hard, frozen soil to make way for spring. At full bloom, they stood proudly above the snow to ring in joy and new life.

And new life there was. The earth beneath them was waking in more ways than one, and winter was more than just a season that was ending. It was a metaphor for the state of the planet, which had been in winter for so very long. With the opening of the first watchtower, it was as if spring had returned...finally. Some of the darkness that had covered the earth had been pushed back, recoiling as the light from the watchtower fired its opening shot. It was a signal from the planet and those who served it, letting all who dared to know that their conquest wouldn't be so easy. The life of this planet wasn't theirs to take, and that which brought fear to others would know that fear for themselves.

Those flowers were the bells that tolled defeat for those foolish enough to challenge the powers of creation.

The instrument through which the planet worked was unaware of all these things. She knew nothing of the returning blooms of a rare and beautiful flower, though if she did, it'd no doubt delight her. She didn't know what a target she'd made herself, nor did she know how much fear she instilled in those who worked against the planet and all she stood for. The first high summoner to walk the earth in over a thousand years was blissfully asleep and quite content to stay there. By all accounts, she'd done well for a first timer, even though she'd exhausted herself in the process. Those that doubted her power and the choice of her guardian had begun to rethink their objections. She was far stronger than they guessed and her guardian was far more useful than expected. In fact, he seemed to be slipping into the role quite well, though he had a long way to go. He was far too hesitant, and his acceptance of his task was much too gradual. In the end, there was nothing to be done about it. The living have to make their own way in the world, and the dead could only watch and hope.

Oblivious to this, the young summoner could feel the hum of power she'd created in her sleep, which accounted for how restful her repose was. The completion of the first step of her journey had brought a small measure of peace to a world that was ringed with chaos. She felt less heavy, less weighted by her insecurities. Her fragile heart, made more fragile by her sorrow, had gained a bit of strength and a glimmer of confidence in her success. And for the first time since she'd been here, she'd dreamed mere dreams and not nightmares.

All was peaceful and her dreamscape was filled with images of the waking forest beyond and the planet's revival. She dreamt of growth and new life, and it was so vivid, she could almost feel it. The trees stretched out, their branches reaching for the sky like grasping fingers. And the sky embraced them, embraced _her_ in welcoming warmth. She was home...this was what it felt like. If she could stay here, she would. All the sorrow she felt, the guilt and the pain, all of the angst that had plagued her the last few weeks melted away, seeming more like a distant, unpleasant memory. Home was so far away, she wasn't even sure if she'd know it once she found it, so she struggled to stay asleep.

But dreams can't last forever; she'd learned this lesson already.

Aeris woke up unwillingly. Her eyes opening on a world unwanted. With a heavy sigh, she stared at the rumpled covers of her bed disconsolately. For a moment, she was confused because she didn't remember where she was or what she was doing here. Groaning, she rolled over and threw a hand over her eyes. She blinked blearily, as if that'd help her to remember.

Sore. She was sore and very tired, despite the knowledge that she'd probably gotten more than enough sleep. Maybe even too much sleep, if she were to judge by the light headache she had. Her mind felt a bit fuzzy around the edges and thinking came awfully slow. There was a vague recollection of a particular night she had in her first life in Costa del Sol. But she was pretty sure this wasn't Costa del Sol and she was also pretty sure she hadn't indulged in another close encounter of the daiquiri kind. She'd sworn off drinking after that night. Having the mother of all hangovers did that to a person. So, going down the mental list, she knew she wasn't in Costa del Sol, nor was she suffering from a hangover. Therefore her current state had to be attributed to something else.

Perhaps she was coming down with something. She moved a hand to her forehead to check for a fever she didn't have. Her eyes were drawn to the looping beads around her wrist and it all came back to her in a rather comfortable rush.

"Oh!" She said to herself, mildly annoyed at her own apparent stupidity.

Of course! She'd opened the first watchtower. She'd be able to leave. She'd...

Aeris paused, her gaze shifting from her bracelet to her sleeve. She was wearing her old tunic. The one with the embroidery on the sleeves she liked so much. The one that was stained. Something didn't make sense. The last thing she'd remembered was collapsing into...well, she wouldn't think about that part. She'd collapsed after completing the summoning spell and when she'd collapsed, she'd still been wearing the ceremonial garb required for the ritual. Abruptly, she sat straight up, her eyes wide and startled. So, what was she doing back in her regular clothes? How did she get here? Where was...?

Her heart pounded a mile a minute and she was unsure of how she ought to react. She remembered falling forward. He caught her and she had been surprised by it. She hadn't expected him to be so considerate, being that he'd been the one to clearly delineate his role as protector. She didn't imagine that protecting her from the ground was in the job description as he understood it or so she thought. Yet, he'd darted out and caught her. It was really quite unbelievable. If he'd caught her and since she was here, she could infer that he'd carried her here. And...being that he carried her here...had he...had he changed her clothes too? Aeris blushed deep, dark crimson, mortified at the thought of _him_ undressing her. She shivered, rubbing her arms to shake away the feelings of revulsion. How in the world would she face him now? She just bet it was some petty form of revenge for her having walked in on him before. Bastard.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of someone opening the front door. It was no doubt the bastard himself. Her cheeks became uncomfortably hot and she half thought about curling back into the covers to pretend she was asleep. It'd be a damn sight better than actually confronting him. Should she ask him? No, that was far too embarrassing, but if she didn't, she'd never know and not knowing was far worse than knowing. She flopped back on her bed and let out a strangled growl. Now, she was confused and she hated being confused. She flipped over and buried her face into the pillow. Maybe if she pretended he wasn't even here, he'd go away...at least for a little while. Hopefully long enough for her to figure out how to ask him about the undressing issue without horribly embarrassing herself.

It was then that the planet decided to send her a nice, brain lancing vision. Inhaling sharply, her eyes snapped open as pain overwhelmed her. Images pressed themselves behind her eyes, and pushed forward until they were all she could see. It was a unique stroke of luck that she'd decided to bury her face in the pillow, as the agony was so great she cried out. The sound was silenced by the pillow and her slight conscious effort to scream into it. Coursing veils of fire arced through every neural connection, and she spasmed as she submitted to it.

There was a road covered in rapidly melting snow. A village. A field of white and in the white, there was an old hut. The ends of the vision pulled back, blurring the images, making them streak as they ran through her eyes. A hut...a hut that was used by travelers who traversed the long, empty trails that crisscrossed the vast fields of snow between Icicle Village and the Northern Crater. There was something there, something they needed. The vision refused to show it, of all the absurd things. It only gave her the fleeting impression of limitless black. Black and tainted purple, that wasn't hers to hold or to have. Wasn't hers to give or to find. It belonged to another...it balanced. Within the radiant heat of the vision, the planet showed her the path that'd lead her to that which wasn't hers. It told her what had to be done. This was not her task alone...and it was a test of sorts. But nothing was clear, and everything was so vague. She tried to grasp for it, but the agony behind the vision kept her from full understanding. Before her mind could even grope for a question, the vision was finished with her and left her alone to gasp soundlessly.

She lay there for several moments, trying to catch her breath as tears she didn't even know she cried dried on her cheeks. There was movement below. Someone shuffling around busily, apparently trying their best to be quiet and unnoticed. Problem was, they weren't and they didn't. Aeris sighed heavily, turning her head tiredly towards the sound. She'd been a bit drowsy upon waking, but now she was downright tired. The fact that the planet had given her their next destination didn't make her as happy as she thought she'd be. Sure, leaving this place would be nice but...It didn't matter anyway. Her brain hurt far too much for her to care about much of anything at the moment. Perhaps it'd just be best if she were blunt about it.

In the grand scheme of things, him undressing her wasn't the end of the world, but it was inappropriate and he'd be made to see that. Huffing, she curled into a very small ball and closed her eyes. Maybe a few minutes more sleep would help her in some vague way. Maybe she'd be able to think better, plus it helped get her mind off what she viciously didn't want to think about.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth had busied himself with preparations for their departure. He wanted to leave. Badly. He'd never been a patient man. In his very fist life, before his bout of insanity, he'd always hated waiting. There was nothing worse than the first few hours before a mission, because all you did was wait while everything that could be gone over was. Everything was checked and rechecked, and you had nothing to do but sit there, cooling your heels. Waiting for anything was worse than aggravating for him. It was pure torture. Inactivity didn't sit well with him at all. After having well over three months of waiting, with three years of waiting before that, he'd was more than tired of it. It left him feeling anxious and unsure. His blood boiled, his skin itched and he just wanted to leave, damn it all.

To the casual observer, he didn't look quite as over-anxious as he felt. He hid his emotion well, but for those few who knew him well, they would have noticed the subtle signs of his aggravation. The slight twitch of a finger, the constricted look on his face, the way he tapped his foot whenever he was too still. This was the general they'd known, and if anyone who'd known him then was still alive and saw him, they might have laughed. The general they knew had always been jumpy before missions. There was something about the open road, something about traveling to a destination with a purpose that calmed him.

Sephiroth realized what it was. It was the purpose. He longed for purpose. In this city, he had none. Out there, he did. Even if it wasn't a purpose he particularly believed in or was fond of, it was a purpose...a reason for being all the same. More than just that, he was hoping it would be a purpose beyond what he'd had before. He'd always been searching for it, searching for why he was who and what he was. Two lifetimes and he still hadn't figured it out. With this new one, he hoped to finally find whatever it was he was looking for.

Even if it meant helping her...that ridiculous flower girl.

_Damn her_.

He was almost obsessed with the need to leave this place. His need was even deeper and far more involved than simply his wanting to leave. Every minute he spent here burrowed underneath his skin, causing a restless irritation that wouldn't go away no matter what he did to relieve it. He hated it here. His only desire was to just go, to get started with this mission and to complete it as quickly as possible, so that he could get back to his nice, boring afterlife.

And he'd be doing all of that if hadn't been for the girl. It seemed she existed just to task him. _Damn her all to hell_. She'd procrastinated for over three months. It'd taken everything in him to restrain the desire to shake her until her neck snapped. He wanted to light a fire under ass, just to get her moving. It'd come to his attention that he really should have. She already thought badly of him, so what did it matter if he lowered her opinion even further? It was really all his fault for letting things go on as they were. Why hadn't he been more abrupt with her? He was holding back, and the realization astonished him. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he'd gone so easy on her. Of course, he was sure her opinion on the matter differed, but he knew himself. He knew he'd gone easy on her.

Keeping away from her, hiding, engaging in arguments he didn't want to win. Ridiculous. He should have put her in her place or at least attempted some show of authority. He'd done it to Shinra often enough when he thought the man was being an ass. Just because you were the boss, it didn't mean you were in charge. The girl might know where they were heading, and this was definitely her mission. However, he was charged with protecting her and seeing her mission complete. He couldn't do that if she were being obstinate. She thought he was a bastard and he should really have played the part better. Instead, he allowed himself to be insecure. Allowed her to get the better of him and look where it led.

Damn her.

Being a bastard wasn't so hard before...but now...with her. There was the guilt and after the guilt came annoyingly long periods of just thinking, which he referred to as his "long dark tea-times of the soul" or alternately, "fishing out the dead woodchucks." Whichever it was, it was reflecting on things best left not reflected on and being there was no one to help him make sense of these things, he didn't feel anything was solved by it.

Sometimes he thought to revert to general mode. To try to pretend to be what he was in his first life, but that didn't work out very well. Because if he were a general, that'd make her a cadet and if she'd been one of his cadets, he'd have probably reduced her to tears without a thought or regret. Technically, he had reduced her to tears on more than one occasion in the last few months. But those tears had nothing to do with his current irritation. She had a right to those tears.

This was all so pointless.

One way or the other, the guilt was still there. Perhaps that was it. Maybe he felt sorry for her, maybe he regretted what he'd done. Maybe he was really sorry...not that it mattered. But that was too close to caring, and he refused to care for her. No matter that she deserved to have someone care for her. He wasn't the one for such a task. That was the puppet's job, not his. Never his. Besides, she'd never accept such things from him. What did it matter anyway?

In the end, it was just best to become a blank slate. To serve his purpose with the same calm resolve he had in the past. This was just another mission, in a long line of missions. Oh, he had no illusions. He wasn't the man he was in his first life. He was no hero. Nor was he the god he wished to be in his second. He was what he was. Above and beyond all else, he was a solider. A soldier who'd come back from war, broken, beaten and changed from what he once was. Tarnished. Bitter. Forgotten. . Lost, pathetic and powerless, in a way, perhaps he'd always been those things underneath all the arrogant posturing. He was just too blind to see it and now...And now, without any pride, without the filter of ambition to blind his eyes with its amber glow, he could see himself for what he really was and would always be. He was nothing. No one. And having seen what he really was, all he had was empty duty. He'd accomplish his goal, and at the end of all of this, he'd quietly sink away into welcoming nothingness or so he hoped. After all, he was nothing and in nothing he belonged.

Protecting the girl was all that mattered, not the girl herself. He didn't care for her, he didn't have to, nor would he be forced to. This was the job. He'd do that job, and no more. There was no pride in duty. No accolades to receive. Not after what he'd seen, what he'd done. He couldn't care, didn't deserve to care and didn't want to care. It was all so meaningless. Apologies were truly meaningless. Caring was meaningless.

And he really DIDN'T care.

In the back of his mind, he questioned himself about the surety of that line of thinking. If he didn't care, why did he hold back? Why had he felt so guilty when she fell that first time and he failed to catch her? Hell, he still felt guilty and it was an awful feeling. One he wished would just go away, but no amount of meditation would rid him of it. There was more...and he feared it. A reason that he wasn't willing to accept, much less voice. The second time she fell...why had he caught her? He tried to make himself believe he had no hand in it. The planet had guided him, forced him...compelled him to do it. But a secret part of him knew that there was no otherworldly power controlling him this time, as if there ever had been. The planet had seen to it he had free will. He knew this, and yet he denied it. Because it brought up thoughts and feelings he wasn't prepared to deal with. So he pushed it to the back of his mind. He didn't deign to answer those revealing questions, rather, he rationalized that the planet HAD compelled him. He had nothing to do with anything whatever.

This didn't make his inner turmoil any easier and it certainly didn't ease the constant feeling of guilt he had over everything. In fact, his denials seemed to make this current problem more vivid. It wrapped around his mind and strangled it. His every thought was centered on it and it aggravated him to the point of distraction. After having thought about all this for almost six hours, he'd decided it was the city and his lack of purpose. So, he put himself to work. Work made things simple and he needed something simple. All this complexity was driving him bat-shit.

Determined to forget the girl and the stupid, useless feelings she brought up, he searched the city for anything that'd aide in their departure. Several things had occurred to him while doing that. The foremost being their mode of travel. He wasn't sure which direction they'd be traveling in, as the girl was the one guiding their steps. She knew where they had to go, so until she woke, he was left to guess which road they might take. The destination didn't matter to him much, but he was concerned with how they'd get there. Most likely, they'd have to go by foot which was a less than desirable option, considering his company. The girl was many things; hardy was not one of them.

There were really only a handful of roads to choose in this wilderness. Being that there were only two real cities on this continent, there were only two paths they could choose. One lead to Bone Village, the other to Icicle, and both were out of their way. Bone Village wouldn't be too bad. It'd be a good seven to eight hour hike through the enchanted forest, but it'd still be intense. If he was as strong as he was back then, it'd be nothing, but as he was now, he knew that it would be arduous and unpleasant.

Their alternate destination was Icicle Village, which, by his estimations, was a good twelve to twenty four hour hike. And those calculations were based on a straight itinerary with no stops to break for meals or rest. The girl wouldn't tolerate that. Even if she did, there was no way her body would be able to endure it, judging by her fainting spell in the cavern. Taking the girl's constitution into consideration, the hike to Icicle would take two to three days by foot, perhaps longer. The Northern Continent was known for its unpredictable inclement weather. If it stormed, their travel time would inevitably lengthen.

He'd taken the liberty of rummaging through her small pack and found it to be lacking. They had little in the way of packaged foods, which would mean they'd have to forage. He wasn't sure of the weather outside the city. If it was fair, they would have a chance. If it wasn't...they were screwed. Foraging in the dead of winter on the Northern Continent wasn't anyone's idea of fun. They'd most likely die within a few days if it came to that, though not if he could help it.

He looked for survival essentials. She had a knife, some matches, which was good. No rope, which was bad. She did have some rather rough wool yarn, along with a sizeable pair of needle-like things, which he supposed were used for knitting. Not knowing much about such things, he couldn't be sure. In any event, there was the wool yarn which could be used to make a rope. Not a good rope, but a rope none-the-less. A first aide kit and what looked to be some medicinal herbs, which was very good. Her staff and some basic materia, which was sort of good, as the staff didn't look like it could hit much of anything without denting. By the looks of it, she'd bought it at Wall Market, no doubt for a song and it'd work as well as any weapon bought at a discount store would. Very badly. Whatever town they were in, they'd have to find a way to get her another weapon.

The materia was a bit of a blessing, though they looked to have lost some power. Perhaps from disuse...perhaps from something else. Even so, it was better than nothing. There were a few personal items. There was an overstuffed journal, full of pictures and writings which he carefully ignored. A hairbrush and more of that dry shampoo she'd given him. Toothbrush. Lip balm. Feminine items he wished he hadn't seen and quickly put away. There was a small compass that didn't work. _Wonderful_. A sewing kit. Unnecessary maybe, but it could prove useful. The rest was rubbish, clothes and other vanities, which were of no interest to him, other than the dim notion that she'd have to leave some of them behind. They'd have to travel light. He'd allow her to pick and choose what she wanted to leave. But she would have to leave some things and he WAS prepared to fight her over it.

His mind, when working properly, was an efficient machine. The time spent in purgatory, and the last few months of waiting had dulled him in some respects, but on the whole, he felt more...Well, he couldn't really explain it. He felt sharper. More...in control of himself. Not that he lacked control before, it was just--Shaking his head, he determined that thinking about his own feelings was just something he wasn't good at. Perhaps the best he could say was that his mind felt nimble and free, and he was remembering things he long ago forgot. It was wonderful.

The machine that was his mind chugged along, sifting every bit of information into various mental folders for later use. Planning such a venture was a complicated thing and one not to be taken lightly or rushed, especially since he was unsure of the destination. It was for good reason, then, that he'd decided to plan for any eventuality.

Their lack of adequate supplies worried him. If it was Bone Village, there was little to worry about. But if it were Icicle...they were simply not prepared for the trip. He had put much thought into this problem and came up with a rather unlikely solution. If they caught a chocobo, their trip would go more smoothly. Rather than a twelve hour hike, they'd face a three to four hour ride. The only catch was...well...actually catching a chocobo. They didn't have any lure materia, which would make the task harder but not impossible.

Not for him, anyway.

So, he'd made a list of things to do for himself, in order of importance. The first step was already finished. He'd taken an inventory of their belongings to determine what they'd need. Sorting out her back pack had taken less than an hour. Organizing all her things into neat piles that were ordered from essential items to those he deemed completely worthless, took considerably longer. The last step, of course, would be once the girl awoke...which he was beginning to wonder about. She'd been sleeping for quite sometime. Too long, he thought. Then again, his idea of enough sleep was slightly skewed, as he loathed sleep. Or more correctly, he hated how much time was lost to it. There was too much to do, too much to be accomplished in one's life and to fritter it away in the dull nothingness of sleep was unconscionable waste of time. Why lay there, doing _nothing_, when you could be awake and doing _something_?

Of course, he realized his bodily needs, at one time, had differed from the average human. Now that he was, pretty much, an average human or as close to human as a thing like him got, he found he actually _needed_ sleep. Worse, he needed it regularly. Even still, any fool could tell you that an average human only needed three to four hours of sleep in order to function. The girl was going on two days now. That was just ridiculous.

He supposed he should be worried. Periods of long unconsciousness were more akin to a coma than sleep and she could, indeed, be in a coma. He'd checked her for it, prodding her in her sleep to see if she reacted. If she'd been in a coma, nothing would have happened. Poking her with the masamune's scabbard, she'd moaned and batted it away. So, she was sleeping, but it was still worrisome, not to mention annoying, that she still slept. He chalked it up to the spell she'd cast. It had, apparently, drained her and to recover what she'd lost, she slept.

Aggravating as it was, there was nothing he could do. So, he came up with these tasks to keep busy. Looking over his work, he could say he was quite pleased. He wasn't so sure the girl would be, but seeing as he promised not to care about her, he wasn't terribly concerned about that. Even if this was all he accomplished, he could say that he was satisfied, which made him ten percent less annoyed about still being in the city.

After taking inventory, he'd gone outside to start making the rope he deemed very necessary for the journey ahead. Staking a staff made from a small sapling in the ground, he'd tied three strands of yarn to the stake and had proceeded to twist them into said rope. Winding it had taken the better part of the morning and it hadn't been an easy or enjoyable task, but he'd done it. Upon reflection it almost seemed unnecessary. He'd already made himself a nice supply of rope out of the available materials he found in the city but none of them were long enough for what he had in mind. He could attempt to splice them all together, but that would be too much work. Not only would it be tedious, but it'd be aggravating as well...and to be blunt, it'd waste too much time. Besides, the few shrubs he'd found had yielded little fiber and was really only good for making short, thin rope that was excellent for to use in a snare but not much else. The rope he just wound would hopefully be sturdy enough to hogtie a chocobo. Key word being hopefully. It looked to be synthetic wool rather than natural wool, so it might prove more resilient, though he had his doubts.

Despite his obvious reservations, he hadn't any choice but to use it, as it was all he had. If he had the time, he supposed he could cure some of the willowy shrubs in the city and eventually make himself a sizeable rope that he'd be less reticent to use. Again, as time was a factor, he reasoned that even attempting to make such a thing would be an extravagant waste of his resources. As it was, the rope he made wasn't so bad and he was fairly comfortable that it would prove useful in the future. Slinging it over his shoulder, he returned to the shell house the girl had claimed to properly place it amongst those items deemed useful.

The house was quiet, as it had been for the last two days and he sighed. Sooner or later, his patience with her would run out. If he had to wake the girl by force, so be it. For now, he was content to let her rest, as making the rope had tired him a bit. Winding over ten feet of wool by yourself was no easy task, no matter what anyone might say. If he'd known better, he'd have realized that he couldn't push himself quite as hard as he did. He had barely slept last night and he hadn't eaten since midday the day before. His body was tired and in need of sustenance. It left him feeling lightheaded and weak, an utterly intolerable condition in his eyes. One that he knew he ought to go about fixing but his stubborn pride made him reluctant.

He wasn't weak. He didn't need these things, but he did. Having to sleep was bad enough...his stomach grumbled in protest.

_Damnation_.

Aggravated and out of sorts, he stalked over to the fireplace and began to stoke the embers of the fire he'd kept burning since he brought the girl here two days ago. He'd decided to reheat the stew he'd made last night, as it was the only thing he had and he didn't fancy trying to catch more game to prepare something different. Setting about kindling the fire, he barely registered the soft noises of the girl's waking.

It was the rustle of her sheets and the sound of a muffled scream that drew his attention. He stood, his head immediately snapping towards the origination of the sound. His eyebrows twitched and his head tilted as he curiously listened, wondering if it might be prudent to check up on her. All the while, he was berating himself for even caring that there might be something wrong with the girl. He snorted disdainfully and shook his head. If she were in any true danger, that scream certainly wouldn't be muffled for long. There were no sounds to indicate a struggle, hence, he remained unworried.

Most likely, she was having some kind of nightmare. A small part of him sympathized, as he knew what it was like to be plagued by night terrors. But outwardly, he remained cool and unaffected, deeming such weakness as further proof of the girl's utter incapability in all matters.

And anyway, he'd killed nearly every monster in the city he'd come upon. There was nothing here that could hurt her, he was sure of it and very little that escaped his attention, even with his dulled senses. Turning back to his fire, he prodded it a final time before setting the covered kettle containing the stew in the hearth. Time ticked by neatly and while he was aware of its passing, he didn't note it much. The girl wasn't awake yet or if she was, she didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry to get ready.

"_Typical_," he thought, with sullen derisiveness.

She had perfected procrastination into an art form. Expecting no less than perfection from an artiste such as her, he wasn't surprised in the least when she didn't immediately waken. God forbid they ever leave this city because he hadn't quite explored every level of mind numbing tedium. All bitterness aside, he wasn't entirely eager for the girl's presence either. She brought with her guilt and levels of emotional complexity that he had trouble dealing with. More than once, he wished he could just leave without her to pursue his own goals. Not that he had any, to be exact...But...But it was not to be. The barrier was weaker, but it still held. He'd checked it. It would seem that they'd have to leave together or not at all. Sitting down in a chair he'd placed by the hearth, he gazed into the fire, and reflected that he could almost enjoy quiet moments like this. How sad that'd all change once the girl was awake.

Pushing his desire to leave the city away, he was almost relaxed, something he'd never associated with himself before. He could imagine living quietly like this wouldn't be so bad. If it weren't for the girl...he would find himself a nice, quiet little place to retire. Perhaps one of the little isolated islands on the Mideel archipelago. Yes, somewhere near the sea, where the ocean was as blue as the sky, so blue that there seemed to be no horizon. A place with bright, white sand...sun kissed days and moonlit nights. Paradise. Or as close to paradise as anywhere on this planet could ever be, that's where he'd find himself in his best dreams. There would be no girl. No puppet. No Jenova. No planet telling him what to do. No anything but him and the sea. It was an empty dream. A lonely dream. But it was his...and anyway, he'd always been alone. He liked to think it suited him, but he was wrong. Sometimes, he could almost wish...

"_We're all really alone_," He thought, his eyes blinking languidly as he watched the flames flicker, "_Alone in our own heads_..._drifting_..."

* * *

The girl, she seemed to value companionship from what little he knew of her, mostly through her mother. Still, he wondered how much of that was true. She'd gone alone to face him. Brave thing, that. Sometimes, there were things that you had to do alone. He knew this. Sometimes...most times it was better. The puppet had been alone too. That was what had made it so easy to...he wouldn't think about that. The boy had been alone, and he'd only been saved because in the end, he wasn't. And in the end, the girl had faced him alone, but she'd slipped into darkness surrounded by her friends, while he died broken and alone, surrounded by shadows and ice. So, that was it...wasn't it? We're all alone. Isolated islands, all grouped together. Alone but surrounded by others in our loneliness.

Well, everyone but him.

He was an island unto himself.

So it was. So it always shall be.

He supposed he deserved solitude. Not like he ever belonged anywhere, anyway.

Having thoroughly depressed himself, he sighed wearily, his head bobbing lightly in exhaustion. His breathing began to slow, and he felt the dull haze of sleep overcome him. He tried to fight it, but everything felt so heavy and the blackness behind his lids was so tempting. A voice in the back of his head reasoned that he should try harder to stay awake. It reminded him of the food he was preparing and the girl, but at the moment those things seemed very unimportant. His eyes fluttered and he let out a sort of discontented growl at the thought of actually resting. He tried to shake himself awake, to concentrate on the world around him, all to no avail. Slowly, he rested his head on his chest, his eyes closed and with a single, soft inhalation his body relaxed and with a small hitch, he let the breath he held go...lost in the dark ignominy of sleep.

The fire crackled softly in front of him, warming the pot he'd set above it. A gentle aroma filled the air around as the contents of the pot slowly simmered. The one who'd prepared the meal hardly noticed the smell of his own stew. He was too far gone in sleep, his exhausted body making the most of what little rest its owner would give it. Other than the sounds of the fire and the boiling stew, there was little noise in the room. Time passed in a steady hum, and all the while, Sephiroth remained oblivious. He slumped forward in his chair a bit and he snapped awake momentarily, just long enough to find another chair to prop his feet on. This accomplished, he promptly feel back asleep, his arms crossed over each other, his head resting in one hand. The picture he made was the perfect illustration of a man engaged in relaxation that was so total it was a shame there was no artist there to capture it.

Unfortunately, the only other inhabitant of the house could find nothing enchanting about the image he presented. Her focus wasn't on him, but the evidence of his morning's labor. Wide eyed and staring, it was all she could do not to scream at the injustice of it all.

She couldn't believe it! Of all the things...She was struck dumb by what she saw and had to rub her eyes a few times just to wipe away the disbelief. Never in her life had she been so angry! Scratch that. She'd been just a bit angrier, she thought, when she'd woken up next to him well over three months ago. Still, she hadn't been this angry over anything in her life AND in such a short time! Both times it had to do with one man. ONE man! A man who seemed to have an uncanny knack for making her so furious she couldn't even form words.

Aeris, by her very nature, was not an angry person. She wasn't given to fits of rage, and rarely ever raised her voice. Nor did she consider herself to have an exceptionally hot or easily triggered temper. In general, it took a lot to get her really mad. Most times, she was just annoyed, maybe even severely irritated, but not really and truly angry. There was little in the world that aggravated her to such a degree. It was the rare person who got under her skin enough to cause her to totally and completely lose her temper. She considered indulging one's anger to be a weakness. Being as such, she determined this man to be her weakness.

He inspired the most mind numbing rage...her eyes just crossed thinking about it. She was so mad right now...she could...she could just spit. Or curse for days on end, using every last swear that had crossed Cid's lips in the limited time she'd known him. Which...was a whole lot of swearing.

Had he NO concept of personal space at all?

It was her stuff! HER STUFF! And he just rummaged through it like an invading bear, tearing through a campsite with nary a care in the world! It was...It was just...

Every part of her was shaking, and she could feel herself on the edge of very powerful emotions that she really had to control, lest she do something drastic. Closing her eyes, Aeris took a deep, calming breath and tried to approach things more logically. She took another deep, deep breath, and groaned in shear frustration, running her hands through her hair exasperatedly. He was just the most obnoxious, irritating, insufferable, arrogant, overbearing, aggravating, murderous son of a bitch bastard from the very deepest, coldest pits of hell that the gods ever cursed her with! She wanted to poke his eyes out with spoons! She wanted to...to...stabbity him a lot with really sharp, pointy things! Or...or she could bludgeon him to death with a very large, very impressively blunt instrument! Yes. Large, blunt instruments would do right now.

The list of his sins was too long for her to recite and all she had right now was his two most recent. And they weren't even that bad and yet they were. It was bad enough, him undressing her...but this...rummaging through her stuff. THAT was the straw that broke the chocobo's back. She'd come down with a nice lecture in mind about his apparent lack of appropriate personal space. Figuring that maybe he hadn't been taught or something. It wasn't too heavy handed, and she made real sure to arrange the words in her head so that he didn't end up feeling stupid. Bastard he might be, but Aeris was determined to be the bigger person and not give into the desire to make him feel bad.

Then she came downstairs to this and all that went straight out the window.

Worse than anything else, he had the gall to be asleep when she came down to find the mess he made! Now, she was forced to wake him, and the whole bludgeoning thing came up...and she could really beat him senseless right now if only he weren't asleep and so very terrifying. Yes, even in sleep, he was terrifying.

She wondered how he managed to do that, though perhaps there really wasn't any mystery. Most likely, it was just the fact of who he was. She pondered that if she didn't know who he was, would he be as terrifying? Her answer was, yes...yes, he would. In fact, he looked positively malevolent sleeping in front of the fire like that. Except for his head resting in his hand. That decreased the evilness that was him by about twenty percent, if she were to guess-timate.

Still...he was scary looking. More than just that, he, the man himself, was scary because she was well aware of what he _could_ do and what he _had_ done. She bore witness to the power of his cruelty and the sheer malice he possessed. It wasn't something that just went 'POOF', when he fell asleep. It stayed there, as all such associations do once introduced into the mind. First and last impressions were always hard to break, especially the impression he'd made on her. It didn't matter that he decided to get all redeem-y on her. She still had the scar _he_ gave _her_, after all. This fact tempered her ire a bit, and made her really think about what she would do next. Pushing away her melancholy, she came to a decision. It was quite inconvenient and terror inducing, but it seemed that she'd have to wake him up herself.

Which...was why she'd been standing in front of him for the last ten minutes just staring at him, rubbing her lips together in indecision as she pulled at her hair. This was her grand plan of action. To will him awake by her thoughts alone. It wasn't working, which was very frustrating for her. Thinking carefully, she thought that maybe she could go and get some water and dump it on him. It'd be funny but too passé. She'd smacked him in the head a couple of times and while it felt good, he hadn't woken up. Out of options, she took a steadying breath and pinched his nose closed.

His face crumpled almost immediately and he let out a strangled groan. Without warning, his hand shot out and clamped onto her wrist. His eyes snapped open and with deliberate slowness, he glared at her through his bangs while simultaneously removing her hand. He looked absolutely furious. Aeris couldn't help the startled gasp that escaped her lips. She hadn't counted on him waking up so easily, nor had she thought he'd be so angry. It was stupid of her, really. Cloud would have been mad, but in an amused kind of way and she knew _he_ wasn't like Cloud. It was just so natural for her and it really was funny, and nothing to be all that mad about. All the same, the look on his face was the most terrifying thing she'd ever witnessed. Most monsters out there only wished to look half as scary as Sephiroth. Unconsciously, fear nestled in her belly and she tried to yank her hand away.

At first, he hadn't let go of her and so she pulled more urgently, using the floor to brace the tension in her body. With a smirk, he let her go mid-yank and she stumbled back with a look that was half fear, half indignation. It was by the god's good graces that she didn't fall on her backside in an undignified heap. Catching her balance, she glared daggers at him, rubbing her hand with tender accusation. She was still afraid of him, watching his every movement as he lifted his head and looked her dead in the eye. His eyes narrowed, and hers widened, abruptly narrowing right back. She refused to be intimidated by him, despite the sharp inhalation of breath she'd taken in realization of this fact. Despite the many unpleasant memories that flickered in the back of her mind, like a candle in a drafty room. She'd seen that look on his face before and without even thinking about it, she took one, small step back.

He saw this and quickly looked away, any malevolence on his face fading into bored annoyance, "Oh...it's just you."

Aeris blinked several times, trying to process the absurdity that just left his lips. _It's just you! Who else would it be?_ Outraged, she opened her mouth to say something and was once again thwarted. Standing abruptly, he wordlessly brushed past her, towel in hand, to retrieve the stew boiling in the hearth. Aeris did a rather spectacular imitation of a large mouth bass at the man she was so afraid of just...ignoring her completely. He went about his business as if she wasn't even there and she found that any annoying thing he'd even done paled in comparison with this. She clamped her jaw firmly shut and glowered at him, willing him to look at her, to pay the slightest bitty bit of attention. She was mad damn it and he was denying her an outlet! Yawning widely, he ladled the stew into a bowl, sat down and began to eat, and not once did he even look her way. This...was just beyond the pale. How dare he!

She stared at him with a look of complete incredulity sprawled across her face, which had gone immobile with shock. Hit her with a board and she wouldn't have been more stunned. He was a piece of work, that was for sure. Apparently, he was un-fazed by all things, eating quietly while steadfastly ignoring the only other person in the room. Words failed her, and her eye twitched as her shock became just a bit more acute. Watching _him_ doing something so normal, like eating, was beyond bizarre. It added to the currently large list of things she barely comprehended about him. He shouldn't eat. He didn't eat. Well, maybe he did, but she never could imagine _him_ eating. It was so...so mundane. So...normal. _Human_. It was weird. It was like thinking about a very famous, very beautiful celebrity going to the bathroom, and wiping their ass like any normal person. It was...wrong. She blinked and shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from the sight. It was like a train wreck, she just couldn't stop staring...

By this time, he'd noticed her gawping and scowled at her. He said something or asked a question but she hadn't caught it, due to the blank stupor she was currently in.

Seconds later, it registered and she shook her head and replied, very intelligently, "Huh? Wha...?"

He looked at her with an expression of cool boredom, enunciating every word with careful menace, "I _said._..stop staring at me."

The way he'd said it was so pointedly cold that the temperature in the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees. She shivered, immediately finding something in the wall to catch her interest.

"S-sorry."

"Hmph," he said, with a look that screamed pure contempt for her. "I wasn't aware eating was such a fascinating activity. Is there anything else you'd like to watch me do? After all, it seems staring at me seems to be a pastime of yours. Maybe I should start selling tickets..."

He stood, almost angrily, as he spoke, taking the now empty bowl into the back of the house to wash in a small basin she'd filled with water just a few days ago. His words just barely made it to her ear as he left and she was shocked once again at the easy insult he leveled at her. Shock and embarrassment gave way to indignation and then she remembered she was supposed to be angry with him...and after that she remembered why. Anger gave way to fury, and her eyes blazed.

"You..." She shouted, following him back into the washroom, "You have some nerve!"

"Do I?" He said, not raising his voice the slightest bit as he slowly turned to face her, "As I recall, I was the one being made to feel like a freak show. Not you. Righteous indignation only goes so far...so long as you have something to be indignant about."

"And I don't?" She challenged.

"No. I don't believe you do."

"Oh, really. I don't..." She said, with a laugh, and a bitter, sardonic smile on her face, "That IS rich. It is to laugh, it really, really is. I have plenty to be indignant about." He flinched at that remark, knowing she could very well bring up some rather uncomfortable subjects with that lead in. She took a sick amount of pleasure in that fact, elongating the silence just to see the slight hint of discomfort in his features. Tiring of the game, she continued her rant, invigorated by the dark triumph in his pain, "Let's start with that mess out in the living room. Or...how 'bout this?" She paused, and held out her hands to indicate the dress she was wearing, "As I recall, I wasn't wearing this the last time I was _conscious_. In fact, I remember...quite clearly...what I _was wearing_ before I _passed out_. AND IT CERTAINLY WASN'T THIS! So, I think I have a damn good reason to be indignant here...and I think you have _a lot_ of explaining to do."

"Do I?"

She gritted her teeth and willed her eyes to close, containing her anger as much as she could. Grimacing, she curled her hand into a fist and beat the outside of her leg. With a very deep breath, she shook her head before glaring at him with ill-concealed contempt. Eyes ablaze with righteous fire, she jabbed her finger in the air, all her fury pointing directly at him.

"You...You just...I give up. You are just the most...GOD! Can't you just...!" She stopped and took another breath, giving into her ire in one long, uninterrupted string of words, "You know. I wasn't going to get upset about this. You...You should be given some kind of medal...because you are truly gifted. You are the most infuriating person I've ever met! EVER! There IS no one better in this world or the next, at just being...aggravating. You're like...There are flames...by my eyes and they're just...flickering...I mean...First, you undress me and then you go through my things and you're just so... blasé about it. All...la-la-la...invading people's personal space is fun...And...and...I'm just so...mad...," She gave an audible cry at this, while he looked at her with blank awe as she continued her tirade, "And...that time I saw you...undressing...was a complete accident. This..." She said, gesturing to indicate her dress, "...was a plan. The mess you made of my stuff out there...also a plan. And I'm not saying you don't have a legitimate reason but...it was just inconsiderate to not even ask!" Aeris looked up at him, finding his eyes to be glazed over and inattentive. He was ignoring her, "Then...with the ignoring..." And she nearly shouted at this, "I'm at my wits end. I'm going to kill you, I swear to god. You're just...GOD!"

He looked at her with an expression of pure boredom for the subject; an eyebrow cocked disdainfully, "Are you quite done?"

Shaking with palpable rage, she took a long, calming breath and closed her eyes. He wasn't even listening. She sighed, her entire body seeming to slump with the action. Pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she shook her head and turned around, unable to look at him without wanting to punch his lights out.

"This just isn't going to work."

"No, it isn't. Not with you childishly throwing temper tantrums without the slightest bit of provocation."

"Without...! Are you...I don't believe you! You have the gall to--"

He rolled his eyes, smoothly interrupting her, all the while speaking in a cool, reasonable tone, "I thought you were finished or aren't I allowed to get a word in edgewise?"

Silence met him and she glared. Hating that he was more composed than she. Hating that he wasn't ruffled by her at all, while she could barely keep herself in check. It wasn't fair.

"So...you're done?"

She nodded fiercely; all the while her eyes burned holes into his forehead.

"Good. Then open up your ears, girl. You're right to say this won't work but it isn't because of me. You've had a problem with me from day one and I don't fault you that. No one asked you to like what you had to do. No one asked that you had to like who you were assigned to do it with, God knows I don't. All that was asked, was that you bloody well see it's done." She snorted and he paused pointedly, his head tilting in a subtle display of his deep annoyance with her, "I tire of your attitude. I tired of it..._months_ ago. The fact of the matter is we would have left this city far behind, if it hadn't been for your petulant and self-indulgent _attitude_. Your little tantrums and fits of pique amuse exactly no one and Strife may have put up with it, but I won't."

Aeris flushed with anger at the mention of Cloud's name, her mouth opening in objection. It was quickly shut when he leveled a very unfriendly glare in her direction. With slow menace, he continued, "Nor will I be forced to stay in this damned prison for one more day. While you've spent the last two days passed out cold, I've done what has to be done so that we can leave while waiting for you to get off your ass...again. I _know_ what my job is. I know very well. I've done mine and it's time you do yours. Unless, you'd _like_ to spend a few more months here just sulking, because someone went through your precious things."

She paled at bit as he quite effectively dressed her down, suddenly feeling very much like a child that was being scolded by her parents. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment so deep she could feel the heat as it rose to her skin. She'd been asleep for two days? She had no idea...she thought...but it wasn't her fault for sleeping that long and she was about to bring it up. Considering she could almost feel his anger, she thought better of it. Sephiroth waited for her to say something and she could feel the hard iron of his gaze. Looking to her feet, she closed her mouth and tried very hard not to cry. He was right. Damn him, he was right. It was bad enough when the planet or her own mother had scolded her for it but from him...it was just so much more hurtful.

"Nothing to say?" He asked, and she shook her head, "Good."

He furiously washed the dish he held in his hand, dried it and slammed it down with an angry kind of finality. That done, he stalked out of the room, pushing past her with a dark scowl. Not one to let things go, he turned around for a parting shot.

"Oh...and perhaps you failed to notice where we got them from, but those clothes we wore were enchanted. The minute we passed that great seal in the front hall, they transformed back into the clothes we walked in wearing. I didn't undress you. I wouldn't _even_ if you _paid_ me to." He said, with calm cruelty, "So you can put to rest any delusions you might have about me wanting to see you in a state of undress. I hate and loathe you, as much as you hate and loathe me, and the only reason I haven't left you behind like the baggage you are is because I can't. Be happy about that."

Having the last word, he left. She stood there numbly, chewing her lip as she fought her tears. Bastard. He was a bastard and she hated him. Looking down at the sleeve she'd stained, she finally saw that it wasn't there. The stain was gone. Gone because the clothes she'd worn had switched with the ritual garments she'd worn for the ceremony. And once the ritual was completed, they switched right back and the magic that made them was unable to replicate the stain. Gods above, she hated him. She hated him so much...because he was right and because he knew how to hurt her without even knowing her. She fought her emotions, and just barely won. Furiously, she wiped away even the glimmer of tears and forced a hard expression on her face. She wouldn't let him break her and she certainly wouldn't let him win.

Holding her head high, she followed him out into the living room, coldly glaring at him before speaking in with a quiet, carefully controlled voice, "So, when do we leave?"

He glared right back at her, his arms crossed defiantly, "Whenever her highness wishes."

She almost winced at the insult. So, he was trying to get her mad by implying she was a spoiled princess. Aeris didn't take the bait, crossing her own arms to mirror his defiance, "I guess now would be good. What needs to be done to expedite our departure?"

"Well, your worshipfulness, being that we have to travel light, you might want to decide what you wish to take and what you wish to leave. I'd do it for you, but _god forbid_ I make the wrong choice and do something inconsiderate."

She gritted her teeth again, just barely managing a cool rejoinder, "I guess I'll go do that then."

"Oh, I'm _so_ glad."

"I bet you are."

And in her head, she added, 'Bastard' to the end of that sentence. She wouldn't stoop to calling him names out loud, but in her head she felt that was okay. A tense silence blanketed the room while she rummaged through his piles. She left quite a bit more than he guessed she would. The only personal items she wouldn't part with were her journal and her personal grooming products. All else was left behind. She didn't ask about the incredible length of rope he held. Nor did she mention the fact that she knew it was made from her yarn. Bastard he might be, but she guessed it had some kind of practical use. And she wasn't about to leave herself open to another series of well thought insults at her capability as a summoner and as a person in general. Donning their identical red traveling cloaks, they prepared to leave the city. Aeris just tugged the tie on her cloak closed and was about to pick up her bag. But her hand met empty air. He'd picked it up and was carrying it for her, a fact which didn't sit well with her as she watched him start out the door without her.

Hurrying to catch up with him, she trailed behind, throwing his back a spiteful glare before saying, in as loud a voice as possible, "You don't have to take that for me."

"I know." he said, "Don't misunderstand. It's not for your benefit, but mine. I don't want you slowing us down."

The only sign that the insult hit home was a slight narrowing of her eyes, she remained otherwise stone-faced. She thought to tell him not to worry about her but she realized he wouldn't. It'd just leave her open to yet another invective. She wouldn't give him that kind of satisfaction.

Sauntering up to him, she matched his pace easily, silently thanking the gods that she had stalled for three months and that during those three months, she'd trained her body. Bobbing for the white materia hadn't been meant as a strengthening exercise, but in the end, it had done just that. She' have pointed this fact out to him, but again...there would be insults.

"All the same, I'd rather not be indebted to you." She said, reaching over and tugging on one of the straps as she walked. "Give it back."

He tugged back, hard enough so that her grip was loosened and she let go of it, "You'll have to suffer your debt."

If she'd been with friends, she'd make another playful pass for the bag. It would have been funny and they'd all have a good laugh about it. But it was him and the bastard would just think her childish for even trying to take it from him, wasting more of his precious time. Instead, she not only kept pace, she passed right by him. She might be short and though she looked weak, she wasn't. His opinion about her meant exactly nothing and she wasn't proving anything to him. She didn't have to. She _wanted_ to, no matter how jejune it'd make her seem. He'd eat every word he ever said, she'd make sure of it because she'd shove every last one down his throat herself.

Some of the air left her as she walked along the wide and dusty trail that was once a road in a great city. Really, it was more of an unpleasant realization. She'd thought that things might be getting better. Upon completing the ritual, a part of her was overjoyed because she felt like she'd actually accomplished something. The events just before the ritual had been uncomfortable, but still, it could have been worse. She'd thought everything was going so well. The ritual had been hard on her, physically and emotionally but she'd done it. In the back of her mind, just as she passed out, she'd thought that the hard part was over now. That maybe, things would get easier from here on out but she was wrong.

It was like she'd started all over again, as if she'd only just woken up in the bowels of the city to discover the true horror of her situation. Only less acute, because she knew what was going to happen. And it just irked her. Sure, she was partly to blame. She had flown off the handle a bit, but still! He acted like she hadn't tried at all and she had this time! It was so frustrating. And who was he to tell her what her job was? Acting like she hadn't even done it. She had! She'd gotten them out of this city. She lit the watchtower, just like she was supposed to. How was that not trying? So what if she'd slept for two days? It was well deserved rest as far as she was concerned.

It wasn't like she could help it anyway, it just happened. Her body gave out, that happens. Maybe not to him, but to everyone else it does on occasion. The least he could have been was considerate of that fact. Obviously, that was expecting too much of him. It must be so easy being a freakishly strong monster who didn't have to worry about petty things like getting tired. Bastard. She'd like to see him do what she'd done and not just be a little exhausted. Genetic enhancements or no, channeling otherworldly forces and summoning a god was no easy task.

She paused to think about it a moment, and realized he kind of had. But THAT was different. He had assistance. Plus, it was just him trying to make himself a god, rather than summoning one, and the effort involved in both tasks really didn't compare. All he had to do was wait for meteor to hit. Not like that was hard.

AND, she should get extra points for managing to work past some of her issues with him. She'd like to see him trying to work with his murderer and see how he did. Bet he wouldn't fair half as well if he was in her place and Cloud was in his.

Her pace slowed, green eyes gazing out at the horizon as it bobbed with each step. She kicked a stone, her face set in a somber expression, almost mournful. This really wasn't going to work, was it? No, she didn't think it would. Pouting, she wondered why everything always had to be so hard. It all came down to her first, more delusional conclusion that everything would be better if he weren't here.

And suddenly, the anger that had drifted away returned. It wasn't fair. What he said, the way he treated her wasn't fair at all. Okay, she'd assumed he undressed her but how was she to know differently? She was asleep, for god's sake! Anyone who had been put in that situation would have come to the very same conclusion she had, even him. ANYONE! Plus, it was just rude to start rummaging through another's things. There was really no excuse for it. Sure, he'd done it with all good intentions, but all good intentions aside, it was still a clear invasion of privacy. The least he could have done was be sorry about it. But, that'd be the human thing to do. He, being a bastard, wouldn't know about stuff like that.

The thing that irked her the most right now...that really stuck in her craw was that she hadn't thought to say any of the things she was thinking while she had the chance. That realization was just the worst thing ever. No, worse than all that, was the fact that they were back to square one. It wasn't like she wanted to be best friends with him or have hair braiding parties with him or something...but...

But after the ritual she'd felt like they could almost do this. That they could work together. She'd anticipated that it'd be hard and uncomfortable for both of them, but she'd so hoped that they'd at lest be able to get along semi-decently. At the very least, she'd thought that maybe they'd forged some kind of quasi-professional, semi-impersonal working relationship. It was stupid really, hoping that they'd put the worst of it behind them. She should have known it would never be so easy. He wouldn't make it that easy and because he wouldn't make it easy for her, she wouldn't make it easy for him. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever way it was, it just plain sucked. She hated using that word but it fit.

This situation sucked.

And it was all his fault.

Satisfied with the safe conclusion of her thoughts, she turned her attention to the path that led to their destination. She didn't really think to wait for her companion. Companion, what a useless word in reference to him, he was just that guy that followed her. Maybe bodyguard was the right word. No, because he'd have to give a damn to do that, though upon reflection she supposed it fit, that was his job after all, though she wondered if he'd save her when the time came. Considering the argument they'd just had, she wasn't too sure.

Anyway, he wasn't that far behind and slowing down for him was inconceivable. She could hear his footfalls just behind her, not that she cared one bit. Once they finally reached their destination, she paused momentarily to gaze up at the staircase that led out of the city and to Icicle village. It wasn't easily climbed. In fact, it was a great, bothersome struggle, but it was soon over and she was on the other side. She'd never been on the other side of this city before, having died before she got the chance. The thought made her a little depressed as her heart beat dully against her chest.

Somberly, she looked around the world outside the ancient city. The world she'd left behind and now she was here. The last three months had felt almost like being stuck back in a twisted version of her heaven. In her mind, the world couldn't touch her inside the forgotten capital, and the days passed with blind uncertainty. It didn't seem real to her in more ways than one. She was separated from the world then and now she wasn't. It rushed up to meet her and she breathed it all in one hurried gasp. Closing her eyes, she could feel the hum of the planet in a way she couldn't in the city. She knew then that its song had been purposefully muffled to protect her until she got used to it.

Even as prepared as she was, it took a few moments for her to gather her strength to push it away. The power she felt in it was dizzying. It coursed through her veins, swelling all sensation until she was uncomfortably aware of everything. Sound, sight, taste, touch were all amplified. She could see and hear things that didn't even seem to be there. Thought and wind becoming one within her mind, and it stung so terribly. Her senses were over stimulated and raw, and she longed to make it stop. Concentrating very hard, she put her will to shutting it all out, something she had some practice with while in the city. She swayed on her feet, fighting a terrible bout of nausea at the sensation and the effort she had to put behind it to silence the cacophonous din that surrounded her.

Within a few moments, she got herself under as much control as she could. She slowly opened her eyes, and was rewarded with another dizzy spell, lids fluttering as she came to an abrupt stop and held out her arms to steady herself. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the world stopped spinning. It wasn't working as it should. Not having much experience with passing out, she wasn't quite sure what to do to prevent that, having only ever passed out for the first time ever, while alive anyway, in this city. The world didn't really stop spinning and she could feel the planet's song on the edge of her hearing. Putting a hand to her temple, she suddenly realized she might want to sit down before she fell down. True to her thought, her legs nearly went out from underneath her, and she would have fallen if it hadn't been for a steadying hand at her elbow.

Gasping harshly, she was almost too afraid to turn around and look, because she knew who it was. It was fair for her to say that she resented him for saving her, because she did. The simple touch calmed the ringing in her ears and miraculously made the dizziness go away. It gave her strength she knew she didn't have at the moment and she hated him for it. Unwillingly, she turned and looked at him. He didn't smirk or make any outward expression that would confirm he was making fun of her, but she knew he was doing it in his head. She had no evidence, she just knew. She could see the arrogant smirk behind his beady little eyes. Scowling, she tugged out of his grasp. She could stand on her own. She didn't need him and the look on her face told him as much. Even though she knew she did, which only made her resent him all the more.

Feeling imperious, she tore her gaze from him and straightened her dress. She didn't feel the need to continue to stare at the smug satisfaction she'd glimpsed in his eyes moments ago. That settled in her mind, she prepared to walk away from him when he spoke up, his question stopping her cold.

"So, you _do_ know where we're headed, don't you?"

Oh, that was a passive aggressive nugget of joy. He hadn't out and out said that he thought that she didn't know, but he hinted at it. There was a subtle tenor of niggling mistrust in his voice, each word carefully enunciated to flavor the sentence with the perfect amount demurral hesitation, with just a twist of doubt that suggested she was an errant child, blindly guiding them through the wilderness. She didn't currently feel like answering his question if he was going to be that way about it. All the same, he deserved to know that she DID know where they were going. Not that he'd be the least bit remorseful for doubting her in the first place.

Aeris dug inside the interior pocket hidden in her cloak and from it, pulled out the white materia. She turned heel on him, and held out her hand, the white materia resting on her outstretched palm. Not paying the least amount of attention to him, she reached inside to find her center and pulled the energy inside the materia forward. Focusing it was quite a task and she had to concentrate harder than she'd like just to keep it under control. She trembled as she held it, her eyes closing as the materia illuminated. Putting more effort into her casting, she bit her lip as she willed the materia to rise off her palm. Hesitantly, it rose over her hand and hovered in the air, glowing just a bit brighter with every minute that passed.

Suddenly, it flared and a tiny shaft of light erupted from its surface. The shaft became wider in accordance with its mistress's will, grasping out like the beacon on a light house. It seemed to search the air, glowing more brightly as it found the spot it was looking for. The materia gently ascended even further off her palm, once again flaring suddenly as the finger of light shot out. It illuminated hotly, a single ray of light clearly pointing out the path they were to follow. The air around them scorched with the sheer, undeniable power of it...of her and it was beautiful to behold. With a deep breath, she drew her power back into herself and the materia went dark, gracefully floating back into her palm in one smooth motion. She closed her hand over it and smiled, looking up at him with a rather self-satisfied expression.

In this way, she demonstrated how the materia would serve as their compass. It also served as gratifying non-verbal revenge. She cocked her head haughtily, daring him to say something now. He gazed back at her impassively, which was disappointing but not unpredictable. Her smile faded as she put away her materia and wordlessly turned away from him. She intended to storm off again, needing to put some distance between them before thoughts of wringing his neck became too impossible to ignore. True to form, he wouldn't allow her any conveniences, and he especially wouldn't allow her to have the last word...or lack thereof...on anything. Closing the distance between them in two strides, he spun her around, stuffed the bag he'd taken from her into her arms, and proceeded to turn around and leave himself.

Accepting the pack with a muffled 'Omfph', she glared at him with startled confusion, "Hey! Where are you going?"

He didn't bother to turn around, stalking towards the forest as he replied, "Stay here."


	14. Out of Tears

_They don't need me here, and I know you're there_

_Where the world goes by like the humid air_

_And it sticks like a broken record_

_Everything sticks like a broken record_

_Everything sticks until it goes away_

_And the truth is we don't know anything..._

_---They Might Be Giants_

For the second time that day, she gaped like a fish at the sheer audacity that was him. He just expected her to sit and wait here while he just left without a so much as a bye-your-leave? Of course, she didn't expect him to actually ask permission, but an explanation would be nice. She'd tried to call him back, going so far as to begin to follow him, which earned her one of his classic angry glares. Backing away awkwardly, she was forced to watch his back as he retreated further and further into the forest. There was a frustrated resignation in her expression, realizing there was nothing she could do but wait. Still holding her backpack, she let it slip through her fingers as she lost track of the last flickering silver of his hair as it disappeared behind the tangle of tree branches and twining undergrowth. With a heavy sigh, she set down her pack, her gaze focused on the last place she'd seen him.

Feeling more than just a little abandoned, she grumbled, "Probably just going to leave me here...the jerk..."

The idea had more than crossed her mind. It barreled through it like a freight train. He'd said as much. She bet that's why he was so anxious for her to wake up. So they could pass the final barrier together and he'd be able to leave, and she was just dumb enough to let him do it too. Now here she was, holding the bag...by herself, waiting like a big stupid dog. A surge of anger raced through her. She didn't need him. She could leave right now and not play the fool, which she just bet he was counting on. But she just couldn't. Her feet wouldn't move, and neither would her eyes. They were still locked on the forest as if hoping she'd catch a glimpse of him, like she was actually hoping he'd come back. Ridiculous.

Several minutes passed and it became painfully obvious to her that he wasn't going to come back soon...if at all. She took one last gaze at the forest he'd disappeared into before turning her head to look at the world around her. It was a beautifully crisp day, if a bit chilly. She stood on the land that was just in between the city and the world outside. Looking back, she could barely see the spire of the staircase that had led them here.

Looking forward, she could see nothing but a wide expanse of wild forest and the sea beyond. She could see the sea. It looked so far away, and she squinted her eyes to try and get some measure of distance, knowing it was impossible. Then she heard it. The gentle swish of the lulling tide, a quiet sound that was muffled by the wind as it whistled through the treetops. A small smiled formed. She was by the sea. It was close, but not so close that the walk to get to it wouldn't be an adventure. Aeris decided right then and there that she'd have to make the best of things. She wouldn't leave, but she certainly wouldn't stay here like an obedient dog.

Excited by the prospect of exploring places she'd never seen, she dipped down and dug through her pack. She had guessed that it was late winter, early spring, by the condition of the trees and the slowly melting snow. If it had been late fall, early winter, there'd be more dead leaves on the trees. These trees were nearly naked, and if she looked closely, she could barely make out yellow-green leaf buds. The tips of the trees had reddened, signaling the new growth of spring, rather than the drab death of fall. It was more than just the subtle physical changes of the forest, but a feeling she had in her gut. As if all nature was stretching in anticipation of new life. Everything swayed and reached above her, grasping for the sun as they had in her dream. It was a wonderful sensation, especially when compared to what she'd felt when she first left the city.

Despite all of this, it was still rather nippy and she shivered from the cold. She wondered if it was just her, but it seemed like the city had been just a bit warmer. Rubbing her arms, she dug through her bag with fingers that were slowly numbing. She pulled out a pair of plain brown mittens and put them on. She'd knitted them precisely three years ago, when she knew she'd need them for her journey north. Though plain, they were really her best work, as they weren't just mittens. They were work mittens, which had a little flap that you could pull back to reveal fingerless gloves.

She called them glittens...or maybe they were mloves, she wasn't sure which name she should go with. Either way, they were very convenient because they could function as mittens AND gloves, harnessing the extra warmth of mittens, with the dexterity of gloves. She thanked the gods she'd come across the pattern for them years ago. The only bother was they'd taken so long to finish because of all the detailing. She'd only managed to finish a pair for herself before...and she'd just started a pair for Cloud when...

Shaking her head, she willed herself not to think about it. With wistful sorrow, she picked up the brother pair to her mittens. The ones meant for Cloud, which she'd never be able to give to him. She'd finished them and she supposed that if the bastard came back she could give them to him, though he hardly deserved such a gift. Her heart hardened, rebelling at the very idea of that man wearing those mittens. She'd made them just for Cloud. Poured all her love for him into those mittens and that rotten bastard of a man didn't deserve something she made, didn't deserve even an ounce of her care. Her fist tightened around the mittens and she scowled, summoning all her hatred for that man into the action.

The sky darkened subtly and a chill wind whipped through the area, so fierce that it nearly knocked her off her feet and she gasped in surprise, the dark moment she'd cast so easily lost. Looking down at the mittens, she realized her error. This place was too cold to be traveling without protection for your hands, even with the increasingly mild weather. The bastard didn't deserve her gift, but she'd give it anyway. He wasn't the only one who could be practical. Carefully, she stowed them on top of all the rest of her things in the bag before replacing the flap and tying the bag closed.

With a satisfied sigh, she stood and flipped her hood over her head. Her breath puffed in front of her as she walked forward, watching it curl in the air and slip around her as she abruptly stopped. Something winked at her from the corner of her eye. That something came from the bare patch of earth that led back to the city. Intrigued, she turned around to investigate.

By a small outcropping of rock, a cluster of flowers grew between the cracks of stone and ground. They burst their way up brightly, and stood like delicate statues against the barren wilderness. She whispered their name like a prayer, knowing what the little bellflowers were and understanding what their blooming meant. As predicted, Aeris was overcome with delight. She bent down and pulled the flap of her mitten off, touching the flower with a single outstretched finger.

There was a part of her that almost wished to pick the flower so she could press it and remember it forever more. But she knew the legends of her people and though she didn't necessarily believe them, she held them in her heart. It was considered a great sin to pick a cloche bloom, because it symbolized killing all hope and joy. Better to let the bloom live and enjoy the sight of it while you had time, than to pick and let it wilt so much sooner. Cloche were known for their longevity in bloom, so long as you left them to grow in the ground. Once she was done with her adventuring maybe she'd come back and do a quick sketch, just so she'd always have some piece of this memory locked away forevermore.

Replacing the mitten flap, she stood and with one last look back at the glowing, white flower she walked towards the cliff just in front of her. Following the sounds of the sea, she reached the edge and gazed over it. Her breath was taken from her. The view was spectacular. She smiled genuinely for the first time since she'd been here. The entire horizon was filled by the ocean. It wasn't a particularly bright day, nor was it overcast. The best she could say was that it was a gray day. Even so, the untamed beauty of the ocean was hard to quell. She didn't need to see anymore. With a ringing laugh that echoed through the forest, she searched for a way down.

She followed what looked to be a worn old chocobo trail. It was a hard go, but she managed it rather gracefully. Her hands pressed against the hard and grimy rock so that she wouldn't slip on the narrow trail. She was eager to get to her destination, but kept her eyes firmly on the trail in front of her. After all, the bastard wouldn't be there to save her as he had in the temple chamber. Anyway, she was only a klutz in his presence because he made her so damn nervous.

Thoughts of him were quickly put out as her foot met the sand. Breathing harshly from the effort of the climb, she lifted her eyes and took in what she'd come down here for. The wind buffeted her and though it was cold, it felt more welcoming than anything she could imagine. Pushing back her bangs, she smiled and laughed again. The sound was plainly girlish and full of life. Eyes bright, she walked towards the rolling sea. The smell of salt stung and the sound of it roared in her ears and it was violently beautiful. With a single inhalation, she drew it all in, feeling heady exhilaration at just being here and now. She was alive. It was a wondrous revelation.

Giddily, she walked down the beach and watched as the waves crashed, skipping away delightedly when they came too close. She didn't know how long she walked like this and she didn't care. Along the way she collected stones and shells, bits of wood that caught her eye, all the while eyeing the stormy gray-green sea and thanking the gods she got to see this. She was happy to find several very flat stones she knew would be good for skipping.

If the sea hadn't been so choppy, she would have taken out some time to indulge in her newly acquired hobby. It was as it was, and so, she pocketed the stones for a later date. A gull cried above her, and she titled her head up to look, watching it fly over the water and away. For several moments she watched the silver pinprick of the gull as it floated farther and farther out to sea, and it reminded her of where she should be. She'd lost track of time and she should go back...but she wouldn't go back right away, nor would she hurry herself on account of him.

Determined not to let the bastard ruin her day, she slowly made her way back, stopping often to look at the sea or the gulls...the sand and the sea grass that grew from it. She found more rocks. A feather. Some very pretty shells and a long stick that she used to write in the sand.

_Aeris was here_.

She laughed merrily at the absurdity of her message. Her feet shifted on the sand as she twisted in the wind, her cloak and hair billowing wildly around her. She fingered the stick in her hand, just feeling the texture of the wood.

"Beautiful..." she whispered to no one in particular, her eyes softening as they molded a memory made of waves and soft sand.

With a backwards glance, she trudged up the hill, her cheeks glowing red from the cold and the exertion of climbing. She felt more like herself when alone like this. Without the heavy burden of her responsibility and without the even heavier presence her pseudo-companion brought with him. Leaving the crashing waves behind her, she felt as if she were walking away from some kind of grand revelation. Maybe if she'd stayed for one moment more, things would become clearer to her but her thoughts remained stubbornly clouded and unsure.

She shook her head, determined not to over think things. She just had to see past her own doubts and insecurities to find something worth living for. Even though things seem so dark and cold, there was still hope. Besides, she was in the living world now, where things weren't perfect or predictable.

The path ended and she was back where she was before. She glanced up, surveying the patch of land she'd left behind hours ago. It wasn't much of a surprise, but the area was empty. The bastard hadn't returned. Her fingers tightened over the piece of wood she'd found and now used as a walking stick.

"Figures," She thought, her eyes wandering until they came to rest on her bag.

It looked so lonely sitting there in the middle of the path. Aeris frowned, blowing a puff of air that ruffled her bangs as it left her mouth. She strode back to her bag, her cloak sweeping gracefully behind her. Her eyes scanned the tree line, searching for the man she was looking for. There was no sign of him and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Shrugging, she knelt down by her bag, fumbling with one of the straps as her cloak puffed out around her.

She pulled out the souvenirs of her adventure and deposited them in an outside pocket, firmly tying the strap closed so they wouldn't be lost. Hurriedly, she opened the top flap and began to rummage through the contents of her pack. After several frustrating minutes, she found her journal and her tin of colored pencils. Pulling them out, she marched over to the flowers she'd seen earlier. If the bastard wasn't here, she'd make use of her time.

There was a minor delay in her plans as she looked around for something to sit on while she sketched. After a brief search, she found a small log that was dry enough to serve as a makeshift chair. Settling in, she put pencil to paper, her eyes focused on the small plant in front of her. As she sketched, she'd decided to give him until she finished her drawing. If he didn't come by then, she'd leave. It gave him plenty enough time to come back without any nasty guilt that she hadn't given him a fair chance.

Satisfied with her decision, she waved away all negative thought and put her mind to work on more useful pursuits. Drawing outdoors was never an easy task, and she struggled with it. It was hard to balance her journal on her knees while fighting the wind, which seemed to be trying to snatch the pages from her. The log she was sitting on was uncomfortable, and a little wet. Not to mention the cold.

But in the end, it was all apart of the struggle. She didn't consider herself a terribly talented artist, but she enjoyed drawing all the same. It stemmed from a lovely book of botanical illustrations that Elmyra had bought her when she was little. Ever since then, she liked to draw little sketches like that in the margin of her journals because she almost felt like an explorer documenting her journey. In a way, she was. Besides, it just made her happy.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but glancing at the position of the sun in the sky, she guessed it had been quite awhile though she could be wrong. It looked like it was around midday, but it was hard to tell this far north. Squinting, she turned away from the sun. Her fingers had become a bit numb and she opened and closed them in hopes of stimulating blood flow. It plainly didn't work. She rubbed her hands together, and breathed on them in another attempt to keep them limber. After all, it was hard to draw with stiff, frozen fingers. Sniffling, she rubbed her nose and her ears for good measure. It was sort of futile, but again, all for the struggle. Biting the tip of her pencil, she was about to start drawing again when an unholy ruckus divided her attention.

Slowly, she turned her head towards the sound. It came from the forest and she frowned, concern weighting her chest at the shrill and almost ungodly shrieks that pierced the silence. She winced, wanting to cover her ears but she didn't because under the shrieks she thought she heard a voice. Before she could analyze it, the shrieks increased in volume. She could hear someone or something beating the bushes, the sounds of something crashing around those same bushes, more shrieks...and each of these individual sounds seemed to increase in volume, coming _towards_ her.

Moments after this realization, the source of the sound came bursting into view. A very large chocobo crashed through the trees and into the peaceful path she'd been occupying for the better part of a quarter hour. It let out more ear-piercing shrieks, stomping and jumping as if running away from something. Her eyes widened as the bird froze, puffing up in anticipation of attack. It hadn't occurred to her that she might be in danger out here. She hadn't thought about the actual monsters and dangerous wildlife that could stumble through here and take her life. Until now. Her gaze followed the chocobo's. The bird reared back and broke into a frenzied run and she gasped.

Walking calmly from the now less-than-silent woods was Sephiroth. He didn't seem to be perturbed that a violently angry chocobo was barreling towards him. In fact, he seemed way too calm. Too composed. She was left with an orphaned thought that he might kill the bird and she wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't, all the while waiting for the inevitable sound of his sword drawing. A sound she never heard, which made her imaginings all the worse. This couldn't end well...and Aeris could do nothing but stare in dumb shock at the car wreck playing out before her.

The chocobo charged, bearing down at him with incredible speed. Barely able to follow the action, Aeris gasped as he sidestepped just shy of taking a full on body blow from the enraged bird. He shifted his stance subtly, slowly twirling the rope in his hands in wider and wider arcs. Her eyes widened with astonishment, she hadn't remembered that he'd had it, nor did she ever think that he'd use it for this. Such thoughts were cut short as the chocobo turned to charge again. In the blink of an eye, he had the rope out just as the bird jumped mid-run, he threw it. The noose spun through the air, skimming the ground underneath where the chocobo was going to land. With a flicker of his wrist, Sephiroth yanked the cord around its feet. The bird fell, and stunted silence fell over the forest. Aeris, again, felt a dull sense of shock, not knowing what he might do next.

He approached the bird, just as it was getting its second wind. It struggled faintly with the ropes around its ankles, squawking like mad. Sephiroth didn't even flinch as it began to flop helplessly on the ground making the most horrible sounds she'd heard out of a living being's mouth. As he got within striking range, he took off his cloak and draped it over the bird's head.

The chocobo momentarily panicked under the fabric but after a few seconds, it became oddly quiet. Only the occasional soft warks could be heard, which was a welcome improvement from the screeching. She watched detachedly as he tied the rope around the bird's feet more securely. So, he evidently wasn't going to kill it. She felt she should be more shocked, but oddly...she wasn't. With a non-committal shrug, she turned back to her drawing, depriving him of an interested audience. Just as her pencil touched the paper, he spoke to her, his voice cutting the silence so unexpectedly that she almost dropped her journal in surprise.

"Come here."

Hand to her heart, she stared stupidly at him for a beat. Regaining her composure, her expression flattened as she bounced her pencil between her fingers, "Why?"

He frowned right back at her the look on his face seemingly commanding her not to ask such stupid questions. Instead of voicing his opinion, he merely repeated himself, this time a bit more threateningly.

"Come. Here. I won't ask again..."

Huffing, Aeris gave him a withering glance before demurely replacing her things in her bag. He watched her antics with expressionless agitation. She smiled inwardly, enjoying every bit of frustration she was giving him. Besides, annoying him wasn't the only reason she was reluctant to help. She'd never been fond of chocobos or more correctly, they weren't always fond of her. They were beautiful creatures, and the few times she'd ridden had been fun...sort of. But they just didn't seem to take to her. Perhaps it was because they sort of intimidated her with their size, and she supposed they could sense her hesitation. Her fear made them nervous and the whole grand cycle started anew.

Reluctantly, she approached Sephiroth, standing as far from the chocobo as humanly possible.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly, inferring that he needed assistance of some kind, though she was half hoping he didn't.

Much to her consternation, he did.

"Hold the cloak over its head," he said, pausing as he observed her grabbing the chocobo around the neck.

She was too timid, too tentative and in her caution, she forgot to be gentle with the bird. He reminded her of this fact, though he didn't ask her why she was so nervous. Something she was eternally grateful for. Watching him closely, he pulled the cloak back to expose the bird's beak. It struggled, feeling the change in temperature. He allowed the bird to become accustomed to it before wrapping a withe made from sturdy vines around its beak. He tied it securely, leaving a medium sized length of the rope hanging off the side. The binding was tight, but not so much so that the bird couldn't open its mouth if needed.

"Let go..."

She did, looking up at him for further instruction. Holding onto the withe's loose end, he tugged the bird's head down to the ground.

"I'm going to pull the cloak off. I want you to lie against its body to keep it from flapping its wings, can you do that?"

She nodded and did exactly as she was told, despite any reluctant reservations she had regarding the animal. He adjusted his hold until he was satisfied and with one hand, he lifted the cloak and threw it off the bird. Upon re-acquaintance with the light, the bird struggled in vain, before abruptly giving up.

"I'm not sure if these birds are very smart or very dumb," he mumbled, pulling another medium sized length of rope over the chocobo's head.

She watched with mute fascination as he weaved the cord into a makeshift bridle, secured it around the withe that held the animal's mouth closed.

Tugging at the loose end of the rope, he glanced at her, speaking in a quietly gruff voice, "You can get up."

Gratefully, she stood up and dusted herself off, giving the chocobo a wary look as she stepped back several paces. He hadn't said anything else to her, nor did he indicate that he needed her for anything, so she assumed her part in this was done. Straightening her dress, she was about to turn around and resume drawing to pass the time until he was ready to go. He had other ideas.

"Hold this," he commanded.

Aeris turned back with a look of nonchalant bewilderment. She gazed at him as if she'd been slapped, staring from his face to his hand to the chocobo back to his face and then finally resting on his outstretched hand. In it he held the length of rope he'd used for the bridle. Hesitantly, she took it, giving him the strangest look as her hand curled around the rope. He offered no explanation, grunting with something akin to satisfaction when she'd done as told.

Truthfully, he'd expected her to voice more ludicrous objections to his methods or complain endlessly. It was a welcome surprise to find she could be agreeable when she wanted to, the key phrases in that thought being 'when she wanted to'. He was satisfied that she had things under control, and so without a word, he untied the bird's feet and pulled the cloak off it fully. Backing away quickly, he grabbed the rope away from the girl and held onto it fast. Without even having to ask her, she moved behind and away from him to a position that was safer.

The bird stood haltingly, its legs unsteady and cramped from sitting on the cold ground so long. It took a few seconds for the chocobo to truly recognize the position it had been put into. Immediately, it began to twist its head against the restraints. With a sharp tug, the chocobo had almost yanked Sephiroth off his feet. She watched him being jerked forward and was inwardly amused. She hoped he'd be yanked forward hard enough to plant that pretty face of his right in the hard, dirty ground. Sadly, that didn't happen; instead, he managed to subdue the chocobo just barely by the strangest means.

He pulled the bridle taught, and began to make funny little clicking sounds. It was almost laughable. Almost. She kept her peace and watched raptly, not wanting to interrupt. The bird's head cocked, and it responded to the sound with clicks and whistles of its own. An odd sort of conversation went on between man and bird, which soon became less silly and more interesting. Mostly because the bird actually seemed to calm down, hardly noticing the bridle it so urgently wanted to throw off before.

She'd never seen the like. With great trepidation, he approached the bird, hesitantly putting a hand on its beak while he made more of those soft clicking sounds. The bird bucked and struggled a bit, trilling in fright. Sephiroth responded by making a sort of hissing shush that whispered through his teeth as he began to gently stroke the bird's head and neck. The animal stomped once and bobbed its head, warking loudly before it abruptly quieted.

He continued to pet the bird, occasionally making those funny sounds while she could do nothing but watch. It was a strange thing, seeing him being so gentle with another being. He'd certainly never handled her with any kind of consideration or gentleness, and it kind of annoyed her that he'd show it to an animal but not her. She shook her head at the sheer ridiculousness of her thoughts.

When had she become so captious? With a defeated sigh, she contented herself to watch quietly and without judgment. Maybe it was seeing the sea that had calmed her, or maybe it was the realization she really was alive, but she was tired of being angry, for today anyhow. Maybe tomorrow she could summon up enough spite to hate him with her entire heart, but right now, she just didn't have it in her. She sighed again, and realized she wasn't sure how long she'd just been standing there watching him.

Something inside her tugged and pushed, a feeling that maybe she misjudged him somehow. Maybe he really was right. Looking down at her feet as they twisted the snow uncertainly underneath her, she wanted to cry. Everything was so foreign to her. She looked up, casting her gaze away from her would-be guardian and the stranger she'd be traveling with. Again, she wondered how she was going to do this and her heart hurt just thinking about it.

"Won't solve anything..." she whispered to herself, fiercely shaking her head to rid her mind and body of all negative emotion.

She'd been happy down by the sea by herself, she just had to remember what that felt like. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remember the waves and the gulls, and any of the thousands of bright images she could bring forth from memory. And when she opened her eyes, she didn't feel all that much better, only a little bit, but it was better than nothing. It seemed better than nothing was all she had to hold onto. Smiling wryly, she walked back to her things. They'd most likely be leaving soon, if she had a guess. She supposed that's why he'd caught the chocobo in the first place.

Aeris unconsciously tried to be as quiet as possible. Picking up and putting away her drawing implements as if she was ashamed of making any kind of noise. Maybe, she was. She didn't know anymore, the world was a strange, foreign place to her now and she could only hope for the familiar. Heart twisting, she watched her own hand carefully place her journal away, pushing past the mittens she should give to _him_, through eyes fogged by unspent tears.

Why did she have to feel this way?

And she wanted to know...right...now...why things couldn't be easy? Why everything she had to do was hard? Was it her fault? Had she done something wrong? And the answer was, unquestionably, yes. She had done something wrong. Aeris turned her head minutely in _his _direction. He was right. She hadn't been nearly as accepting of him as she pretended to think she was. She wasn't as forgiving and benevolent as the picture she'd painted of herself in her mind. She knew it, he knew it. She just refused to admit it to him.

Guilt was an awful coiling rope inside her and it twisted 'round and 'round, hammering at her heart for release. She'd never been able to hold a grudge. She'd always be the first to apologize for anything because it hurt too much not to. But with him, it was made so much harder. She didn't want to give in and give him the satisfaction of knowing she knew he was right. She wanted to hold onto the idea of her being right and him being wrong, because that was the way the universe should work. He was wrong. Wrong and evil. A murderer and a devil. The only reason he was doing this was to save his sorry soul. She was right, damn it. She was right but she wasn't. And by holding onto this idea, she denied herself relief.

She exhaled, frowning sadly.

She was being prideful and pride was a sin. She was no sinner.

Hesitant and shaking, she reached for the mittens, fingers just barely touching the rough fabric. He called her over and gracefully she stood, holding the mittens to her heart, the bag over her shoulder. Tears at the edges of her eyes, she approached him, her heart hammering nervously in her chest. He glared at her, eyes narrowed and mistrustful. She met his gaze, and unflinching, she stood by his side. Swallowing her pride, she took a calming breath and held out the mittens. He looked at them, then back at her, an eyebrow cocked in an expression that defied any attempt to define it. Was it derision? Anger? Annoyance? Disbelief? Outrage? God knew. She certainly didn't. She lowered her eyes, unable to keep looking at him, especially if he insisted on being so saturnine.

"I'm sorry..." she said, her voice thick yet oddly wispy, "I was being unfair earlier."

He said nothing. Not like she expected him to accept the apology, it wasn't in his nature to be kind...to her anyway. Briefly, she was angered at his half-assed attempt at redemption. If he sought it so badly, it'd make more sense for him to at least try to be nice to her, to make the motions of owning up to his mistakes. When did he ever make sense, though? Answer. Never. Not understanding him was something as unchangeable as the sun and the moon. Ever inconstant, they occasionally turned their faces away, but they were always there...even when you couldn't see them.

Choking back a sob, she stretched her arm out and properly proffered the mittens he still hadn't taken. They were her peace offering. The last thing she had of her former life to surrender to him, bastard that he was. When he didn't take them, she was forced to look up at him. He could see the shimmering tears in her eyes. The emotions she warred with caused her entire body to tremble with the effort of keeping them at bay, but her gaze remained as firm as she could manage. He wore a strange expression, somewhere in-between outright disbelief and scornful suspicion.

She made a jabbing motion, chewing the inside of her lip as she nodded at them and then at him, indicating he was to take what she was offering. He blinked and sighed, stroking the bird's side as if considering what he wanted to do. The tension was fairly killing her inside and she almost wanted to scream just to end it. Rolling her eyes, she let out a long, exasperated breath before returning her gaze to her laconic companion.

"They're for you." she said, feeling the need to explain when he didn't say anything, "It's cold up here..."

Her voice trailed off and she didn't need to see his expression to know he thought what she'd said was stupid. She berated herself for being such a fool. God! She was so stupid. Just a naive idiot! Did she really expect him to accept anything she had to offer! Why did she always have to be the forgiving one? Why was she constantly apologizing for small, stupid infractions while he had only ever given her one, intensely lame apology for acts that were beyond reprehensible. This was all stupid. Stupid and foolish and she hated herself for even trying.

Her voice tightened by anger, shame and sorrow, she tore her gaze from his, speaking more to herself than him, "Fine. Be that way then."

She started to swing her pack off her shoulders so that she could put the mittens away when she was stopped by a hand on her wrist. Aeris froze. Her eyes widened as she turned her head, breath quickening as she gazed forward, seeing but unseeing. His hand was wrapped around her wrist for the second time today. Looking at it, she became aware of how much larger he was in comparison with herself. She bet he could easily snap her wrist if he wanted to. It was an uncomfortable realization, and she shivered, licking her lips nervously as she met his eyes. They were hard, cool and unreadable, boring into her very soul with unmatched intensity. Not even the sun could hope to be as unbearably hot and uncomfortable as even one of his most meaningless sideways glances.

Without breaking gaze, she felt his fingers slip off her wrist individually, as if he was trying to extend her feelings of discomfort. Just as slowly, he reached up and took the mittens from her hand and put them on. Wordlessly, he turned his back on her and mounted the chocobo. She was a trembling mess, the memory of his piercing gaze still pinning her in place. The chocobo wark, startling her out of her reverie with a surprised cry. He looked down at her from his mount, holding out a hand to her expressionlessly. Still shaking, she took it and allowed him to heave her up so that she sat behind him.

"Hold on."

She did, whispering to herself as she wrapped her arms around him, "You're welcome...by the way."

He nudged the chocobo and she felt, more than saw, that the bird jerked forward into a juddering run. She held on tighter, closing her eyes as she let the tears she'd held back fall. It was okay if he couldn't see her. And for a moment, she pressed her face into his back and pretended he was Cloud, because that thin strip of memory was all she had to hold onto now. Unbeknownst to her, he knew what she was doing and tried his best to harden his heart against it, reminding himself that the girl meant nothing. It didn't work but it was fun to pretend that it did. He spurred the chocobo on faster, until they became a blurred streak across a vast field of white.

And from the tops of the mountains that surrounded them, eyes that had only watched before now gazed upon them, their mortal shells newly formed. For the first time in centuries, she breathed air and knew what it was to live. It was sickening. But she was free, as was her sister. She watched the unlikely couple with cool amusement. Yes, it was fair to say she'd been concerned when the cetra had opened the first watchtower so spectacularly. It had almost hurt. But to see her now, she knew it would be all too easy. What a pretty show of force the planet had tried to make. Fireworks and screaming banners in the sky weren't enough to stop her, though.

"Pathetic," she said, softly.

Her head tilting slowly as she looked at the mortal she'd taken her skin from. Poor thing, it barely had time to register its own death as she sucked every bit of vitality from her. She smiled. All too easy, indeed...

"They're getting away," a voice from behind her spoke distantly.

"So they are."

"You think it wise, letting them go?"

She looked at her sister, with eyes that were end to end crimson gazing at her with the mockery of amusement. Turning those eyes back to the speck that was the cetra, her smile widened cadaverously, too tight skin stretching over bone.

"It isn't fun...when they don't run, when they don't fight a little."

Her sister seemed to disagree, "It's easier when they don't fight. There's too much riding on this, Kikin. These games are beneath us. We should kill her now."

She laughed, it was harsh and discordant, "And where's the fun in that?"

Her sister said nothing, turning to meld seamlessly with the white of the mountain. She couldn't care less whether or not her sister agreed with her. The games had begun. The false vision had been sent and now all she had to do was wait and watch as the planet's only weapon tore itself apart.

And it would be beautiful.


	15. Seen & Not Seen

_Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power._

_--Abraham Lincoln_

Silence. In all his life, he'd never feared silence, in fact, he had always welcomed it, for in silence he'd always found peace. All his memories were tied to this one, singular truth. The lab he'd grown up in had been noisy. People were always coming and going, all the while talking amongst themselves while they ignored the scared little child on the gurney in front of them. It seemed to him, then and now, that some people never got tired of hearing themselves talk.

They talked to hear themselves talk, as if they were afraid of silence.

Several years later, he'd concluded that they were afraid of silence and talked in futile hope of proving to the world at large that their lives had meaning. As if talking equaled existence and silence equaled a kind of death by non-being. So, they fill the spaces in-between with meaningless words and emotions, regurgitating half meant sentiments that in the end amounted to nothing. Over the years, he had become disgusted by the simple action and had refrained from speaking unless absolutely necessary.

It was comforting somehow, furthering distance between himself and the rest of the world. A distance that he needed yet loathed, because he hated being thought of as different even though he knew he was.

He'd always known he was different. Wrong somehow.

And it was because people couldn't stop talking in his presence and he knew why. It was because they were afraid of him. He made them nervous, so they filled the air with vagaries in order to make themselves more comfortable. They talked in hopes of drawing him out, making him more normal. But he'd never _be_ normal and so he always stayed silent, furthering the distance and making everyone more uncomfortable.

Because he liked the silence.

In silence, he never had to pretend to be what he wasn't.

And he_ had_ tried to pretend.

When he was younger, he'd tried so hard but it became quickly obvious that it wouldn't matter how hard he tried.

He would always be on the outside looking in. So, he wrapped himself in silence, made it his home and took joy in inflicting it on others. Gripping the reigns tighter, he pondered why, exactly, the silence that surrounded him now was so unnerving. Perhaps it was the scenery.

An endless field of snow stretched before him, only occasionally broke by bare trees and jutting rock. The sky was an oppressive steel gray that loomed above them like a shroud, punctuated by the soft, yet melancholy whistle of the wind as it slipped through the trees. The bleakness of their surroundings was rather depressing and he'd never been a terribly optimistic person. But there was something else. Something that was out of joint that he could just barely sense if he concentrated on it.

It was too quiet and for the first time in his life, he found that he hated silence.

They had ridden for nearly four hours and now they were finally here, wherever here was. He smoothly dismounted the chocobo, not bothering to help the girl as he walked forward to take the bird's reins. From the light scraping behind him, he ventured to guess that she'd gotten off okay without his assistance.

Taking his first look at his surroundings, he came to an unwelcome realization. He had followed the girl's directions to the letter, trusting her to be their guide. Looking at the solid wall of ice, rock and snow they now stood in front of, he could see where all that trust had gotten him. It was a large moraine, a shifting mass of rock and ice that had been carried by a glacier long ago and deposited here. It was too dangerous to try and climb, the shifting rubble was likely to collapse if they did. He shook his head, giving the girl a doubtful glance over his shoulder as he held the chocobo in place.

He spoke slowly, his voice tonelessly cynical as his eyes roved the obstacle that stood in front of them, "So...explain to me exactly how _this_ falls into our grand plan to save the world?"

She snorted lightly, giving him a backwards glance as she approached the wall, "Oh, ye of little faith..."

He did a double-take in his head, shocked as he was by the expression of levity from a person who openly reviled him. She didn't joke with him. She didn't laugh. She didn't smile. He was amazed, not only because their relationship thus far had been primarily adversarial but also because she'd been crying profusely not twenty minutes ago. And now she made a joke. It was alarming. He hadn't seen a hint of malice in her gaze or her tone. There was a light chiding in it, but the slight smirk on her face could almost cause him to believe that maybe, somehow, this all had a chance of working.

Not that he'd hold his breath waiting.

Most likely, it was just a moment and as soon as it passed, things would return to the way they had been for the preceding months.

He broke from his musings to attempt to concentrate on what she was doing. As usual, it didn't seem to have anything to do with him. He felt his uselessness to her acutely and not for the first time he wondered why he was even here. The only thing he'd manage to do was catch a chocobo, and if that was the reason he was here suffering the silence, rather than in purgatory suffering _in_ silence...

The thought trailed off. He wanted to quit so badly. He wanted to go back more than anything because living was too hard for him. It always had been. He'd always been lost, rudderless. Drifting. But in purgatory, he'd been directed. He had purpose. Here, he had none or so he thought.

The chocobo shuffled, pulling a bit at the reins and he had to jerk its restraints to get it to stop. Absently stroking the bird's neck, he turned his attention back to the girl. Normally, he'd have kept thinking, occupying himself with his own scattered ponderings and left the girl to do whatever it was she had to do. But the scenery in this part of the world was sorely lacking. There was little to focus on beyond rock, snow and barren trees. It was desolate and uninteresting, and it forced him to focus on what she was doing.

Currently, she was running her hand over a large boulder, her head tilted up as if to plead with the gods to strike it down for her. He stared at her back dully, not at all interested in the intricate designs she was drawing on the rock but watching her anyway. Leave it to the girl to find a way through something like this. Rolling his eyes and yawning, he turned away. The chocobo had become rather restless. Patting the creature's neck absentmindedly, he gazed off into space, not paying attention to anything in particular.

It was the sound of falling rock and the girl's sharp exhalation that tore him from his aimless mental wandering. His eyes widened.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Climbing, obviously," she answered snidely, giving him a withering backwards glance.

"You're going to break your neck."

The girl grunted by way of reply, choosing to focus on the task at hand. Picking her way through boulders large and small, she pushed upward. Completely ignoring the steady glare of her guardian, who stared at her back as if he could pull her back by the force of his gaze alone.

"Damned stubborn fool," he whispered to no one in particular as he coldly watched the girl crawling up the side of the moraine.

Her figure nearly disappeared into the distance before he decided to go up after her. He'd half hoped the entire time that she'd find some mystical way out of this. Cast some sort of spell or open a hidden door...or something. He hoped for anything but climbing up an unsteady morass of rock and ice with the distinct possibility of death by avalanche. The bird wouldn't be able to follow, this much he knew because he'd captured it in the low lands. It simply wasn't built to traverse uneven, mountainous terrain and he wasn't certain they'd be back this way. Carefully, he pulled the makeshift bridle off and with a hard smack to the bird's flank, he let it go. It immediately took off running. He watched it for a moment before picking up their things and setting after the girl, a bit nettled by her arrogant yet accurate assumption that he'd follow.

An hour and a half later he was on the other side of the moraine, and in a terrible mood. His ire was so great that he barely noticed the impressive scenery that surrounded him. Curling tendrils of blue gray mist belched from the toothy depths of a gorge that cut itself like a sword wound into the mountain. Once he finally did notice what lay right in front of him, he almost fell down the side of the moraine as his eyes took in the sight. Steadying himself, he took a real good look at the breathtaking scene, imprinting it on his memory. After a moment, he continued down the slope to join his companion, as if he dared to call her that.

She sat quietly at the bottom of the moraine. Or more correctly, she sat on a wall at the beginning of a bridge that spanned the gorge he'd spotted at the top of the moraine. He stood silently for a few seconds and just watched her sitting on the wall, kicking her feet out as her gaze lingered on the gorge.

"_Idiot_," he thought, though sometimes he silently wished to see the world in childlike wonder as she did.

He sighed and nudged out some stones to get her attention. They skittered down the incline loudly. The girl's head snapped around, her deep green eyes gone even darker with alarm. She didn't greet him but he did notice that she tried to hide the frown that formed on her face once she knew it was him and not some monster, though he supposed in her mind there wasn't much of a difference.

She huffed with mock-impatience as she picked up her cloak, which she'd taken off on account of how much warmer it was near the edge of the gorge. He followed her wordlessly, watching her carefully from her first step onto the bridge until her form was swallowed by the mist. Again, he felt a sense of foreboding and his hesitance to enter the fog was more than momentary. The wind whistled through the gorge as if to nudge him. His hair was blown forward and into his face, while his clothes billowed around him. Shaking his head, he turned to face the wind and as it drew enough strength for one last gust. Hair blown back, cape fluttering, he closed his eyes and for the first time in his life, prayed for the kind of strength he'd found in the wind right at the precise moment.

Sephiroth turned, walked forward, and once again crossed a bridge traveling into the unknown.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been on the bridge once he was finally off it, but it had to have been a long time. An hour at least. Then again, time seemed to move differently when surrounded by impenetrable fog. Gradually he could make out forms in the mist and within moments he had crossed the bridge entirely. The fog curled back like a living thing repulsed by some unseen power. And as it slinked away, the twisted craggy spires of a large and ominous looking building were revealed.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and frowned, muttering, "Great...another temple."

"It's not a temple."

He wasn't startled by the girl's sudden appearance but he was slightly surprised. Not missing a beat, his comeback was swift and tonelessly sarcastic, "Well, it sure as hell fooled me. Those ancients were a crafty lot, they were." Crossing his arms over his chest, he ignored the girl, who looked like she was about to spit nails, and examined the not-temple with eyes that weren't entirely devoid of curiosity. "So, if it's not a temple, then just what is it?"

When he turned and looked at her it wasn't hard to miss the sour glare she gave him. Half expecting her to loose some of the venom in her eyes on him, he was almost disappointed when she answered semi-civilly.

"It _was _a shrine."

"Ah. How silly of me. Shrines and temples being so different from each other I got confused."

She paused, glowering at him coolly with narrowed eyes, "There _is_ a difference."

"Hmph. Semantics."

"...Only for those too thick to know the difference. A temple can have a shrine in it and some shrines have their own temples, but that doesn't mean the terms are interchangeable." And here, she stopped, looking at him pointedly as she enunciated her words carefully, as if he was very, very stupid. "This place was a shrine...that housed a relic, now long gone."

It was his turn to pause before speaking very slowly, "If the relic is gone...then why are we here exactly?"

He hadn't forgotten her insult and he wasn't all that happy about her wasting his time...again. Bad enough that she'd treated him like a particularly dim-witted elementary school student, but then to lead them to this relic-less temple without a word of explanation was just insulting. She was keeping him in the dark again. Only telling him what she thought he was fit to know and he didn't bother to hide his irritation from her as he leveled a very cold glare at her. 

"Because we haven't come here for the _actual_ relic this place once held, we're here for something else..."she said, trailing off vaguely as her eyes glazed over in thought. She stood like that for several seconds as if absorbing the atmosphere before she said, softly, "I'm not sure what...but I know this place is a sanctum sanctorum..."

This bit of knowledge or lack therefore didn't impress him in the least and he interrupted her, his voice laced with cultivated boredom, "Yes, yes. A sanctum sanctorum...the holiest of holies. Places so hallowed and divine that evil fears to tread upon them, nothing more than religious malarkey."

"Well, malarkey or not, this place holds great power and currently it's sealing what we've come here for. Or...shall I say what _you've_ come here for," she said, with a slight but still noticeable amount of malice in her tone.

The muscles in his face twitched as he glared at her with an intense, almost violent expression, "I told you I'm not your errand boy."

She smiled slowly, the saccharine in her voice so sweet it hurt his teeth, "That's nice, because it's not _my_ errand, it's _yours_." His answer was cold, brutal silence to which she only smiled wider. "What, did you think that you were just here to kill things? I did my part, now you do yours."

Damn her for having an inarguable point.

He looked at her, then at the temple and back at her again. She looked at him, eyebrows raised in expectation, nodding towards the opened entrance of the shrine as if it'd encourage him to do as he was told. On one hand, he wasn't really all that happy about being told what to do in the first place, especially by someone like her. On the other, he grudgingly admitted to himself only that he was in need of something to do.

Never one to give in easily to anything, he asked, "You're serious?"

"Yes," she replied blandly, with narrowed eyes, "Completely."

He bet she was expecting a fight because just as he moved towards the entrance, he swore he heard her gasp. Striding forward, he was surprised when he felt her tug on the back of his cloak. Sephiroth looked over his shoulder and down his nose at her, annoyed she'd ruined a rather triumphant moment for him. She stared at him, too stunned to speak. Truthfully, she hadn't really thought he'd be that cooperative and had anticipated a nasty and drawn out argument with him. His quick compliance to her request was unexpected and shocking beyond words, and her brain hadn't really connected the dots in time for her to tell him what he needed to know before proceeding. He waited until the silence became unbearably uncomfortable before attempting to drag her out of her stupor.

"I suppose you've stopped me to tell me what it is I'm supposed to do, as if I care."

"No. Like I said...it's your errand. Complete it in whatever way you see fit."

"Hmph. Why don't I believe you? There are always conditions...always..." He snorted, trailing off in expectation.

She frowned and shook her head in resignation or denial, he wasn't sure which, before speaking to him quietly, her tone grave, "You won't need that."

"Ah, your nonsensical reply solves everything. I won't need that. Thank GOD you told me. Can I go now?" He said in a voice so flat and serious that it took several seconds for her to realize it was, indeed, sarcasm.

She pursed her lips sourly, giving him a dirty look as she replied, "My, aren't we snippy. And no, you can't go. Not yet--"

And on the inside he congratulated himself as the phrase _'I knew it' _ran soundlessly through his head.

He almost laughed.

Instead, he cut her off before she could finish. It wasn't like what she had to say mattered to him anyway.

"Yes, yes. Not yet. Not now. Not before I jump through a few thousand hoops all in the name of ritual tradition. Listen, I don't give a good god damn for your rituals, this _temple_, or your faith in the planet. Now tell me what the hell it is you want to tell me and stop beating around the bush."

She gave him a look that said '_I really hate you_' as she crossed her arms, taking in a breath to speak, her voice tight, "Your sword. You won't need it inside the shrine. It being a sacred ground and all...it's a place of peace and weapons aren't allowed."

"Was that all?"

"Yeah, I guess. You go in. Get what we came here for and leave," she said, not even attempting to hide her indifference. "That's pretty much it."

"What am I looking for?"

"Can't say. But you'll know it when you see it."

He wanted to ask if she knew something more, if she was hiding something from him but he didn't. Instead, he turned and walked away from her, sword still strapped to his back. Just as he was about to enter the temple, he was stopped cold by her voice.

"I mean it when I said you won't need your sword. Leave it behind."

Sephiroth didn't bother to look back. He strode inside without a word, leaving the girl outside and to her own devices. She watched him melt into the shadow of the shrine, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in preparation for a very long wait.

Looking to the sky, she exhaled and whispered, "Idiot."

Inside, the temple was nearly pitch black save for the sliver of light that cascaded through the wide open doors. It harshly illuminated the temple's cool interior, casting the scant carvings and architecture in sharp chiaroscuro. He was dimly aware of the utter, perplexing quiet of the place as his footsteps echoed very faintly around the cavernous room. Walking further in, his eyes carefully scanned the room.

Something wasn't right. He could feel it.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his heart beat faster. In the darkness, he could feel eyes watching him. He, unlike some, wasn't afflicted with an overactive imagination that made monsters of innocent shadows. Some would say he didn't have one at all which was untrue. He did imagine as anyone else would. It was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place; however, his imagination was never fueled by fear. Instead, fear had always been his tool, even before he'd gone mad. He had honed himself into a thing that nightmares were made of, carefully crafting his image to induce fear because, truth be told, he had never felt fear in the way most others experienced it.

Most humans feared the unknown, whereas his fear came from what he did know.

True horror and true fear came from far more mundane concepts. Real evil, in his mind anyway, was subtle. It was the small things that trapped you into doing something you normally wouldn't. The daily routines that kept you too busy to really think about what you were doing. The monsters of his imagination weren't tentacled abominations. They were soldiers and scientists, professors and businessmen, all going about their daily duties, blindly following orders that most certainly shouldn't be followed.

And what made it really horrific was that he was one of those people and on some level he'd always known that the only thing he truly feared was himself.

Whatever hid in the dark was inconsequential. A mere speck in comparison to him, yet he felt it. Fear. It was ridiculous. Darkness had always been an ally. Not to be cliché...he had always believed it was apart of him. But there was something here; something in this place...its presence was so strong, so foreboding that he could barely even stand stay planted in one place. Standing his ground, he continued to eye the interior of the temple, holding back the urge to shout at the darkness. As time stretched on, his anxiety wouldn't allow itself to be overcome.

Never one to flinch from his own weakness, he stepped forward calmly and spoke without inflection, "Who's there. Show yourself."

A single shadow moved on the stairs on the far side of the temple. He could hear the rustling of cloth and the clinking of metal. And before he could contemplate anything, a sonorous voice rumbled from the dark.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Sephiroth stared into the darkness, allowing it to envelope him. Eyes glazing over as he processed the words spoken out loud that had rang in his head endlessly since he came back. _You shouldn't have come_...The boundless silence in the chamber answered all the things he'd left unspoken, whispering with callous quiet to ears that could barely hear..._you don't belong_..._Leave_...and how badly he'd wanted to do just that. The isolation he'd felt throughout all his lives rippled from within and it occurred to him that he'd never really felt the pain of it till now...and he could only wonder why that was.

The figure in the dark didn't move as if it was waiting for a secret signal only he could give. The soft, glazed look on his face slunk away, hardening with resolve as his body tensed in anticipation. He'd never backed down from a fight, not even when his reasoning had been in doubt.

"You're right..." he admitted quietly before pausing, eyes downcast as if in deep thought as he languidly clutched the handle of his sword, "...I shouldn't have."

His gaze lifted suddenly to become a glare that pierced the darkness. If the guardian of this place wanted a signal, he'd give him one. Effortlessly, he pulled the masamune from its scabbard, pointing it where his enemy's voice had come from, his eyes trained menacingly at the figure in the dark.

He spoke lowly, with a voice that was imperturbably cold, "However...your point is irrelevant. I _am_ here. Give me what I've come for or I'll take it by force."

The figure chuckled humorlessly, "So be it."

Not even a second passed before clamorous sounds filled the temple. The resonant tang of clashing metal rang in his ears, and he half wondered if he'd go deaf from it. Sephiroth embraced the sudden rush of adrenaline. The familiar feelings of power and control overwhelmed his senses and awakened dormant instinct. And a spark of life that had long gone out of his eyes flared despite the fact that his opponent obviously lacked his enthusiasm for the fight.

The guardian swung his overlarge sword with bored indifference and if he didn't know better, he'd assume that the man lacked any skill whatsoever. Long years of fighting had taught him many things and though the guardian's swings seemed lazy and unfocused, he could see what the old man was doing.

He was playing with him.

It was an aggravating thought, and had he been a less dedicated swordsman it might have cost him concentration. Instead, his frustration fueled him. He backed off, circling his opponent to size him up. The man took this as he took everything...casually, as if nothing matter to him in the world, like he wasn't in the middle of a fight, but a short evening stroll. Holding his sword at the ready, Sephiroth watched him with wary eyes. The man didn't even look at him instead he followed the contour of the walls around him, sword loosely resting on one broad shoulder.

Narrowing his eyes, Sephiroth made a quick charge. Exchanging a few blows before backing off and circling him once more. This went on for far longer than most would have patience for. There were some, Strife for instance, who would lose concentration perhaps even give into frustration when encountering such mind blowing tediousness.

But not Sephiroth.

He was relentless once he had a goal in mind. His goal was to obtain whatever relic this guardian was protecting. He would _not_ leave without it.

Quickly shifting his stance, he shot forward and engaged the guardian again. His opponent parried his blows easily. In an attempt to goad the man into a proper fight, he struck with increasing force. With a seemingly final, heavy blow, he actually managed to knock the guardian back, his feet skidding across the tiled floor audibly.

When the dust settled, his opponent was still standing but the coat he'd been resting his arm in now sported a brand new hole that revealed his shoulder and the deep cut left beneath.

The man took a moment to consider this new development, wiping his shoulder with his free hand. He rubbed the blood between his thumb and forefinger inquiringly, grunting softly as if he'd had a revelation.

"So...you want a fight, do you?"

This time the guardian struck first. Using both hands, he swung his massive sword with scary precision and Sephiroth found himself actually having difficulty keeping up with the man. He'd wanted a fight and he'd gotten one, but he'd forgotten one little thing.

He wasn't the man he used to be and the things that made him nearly invincible before were no more. There was no augmented strength and speed he could call on. No unearthly power he could unleash. That part of him had been stripped, only leaving the barest hints of power behind and his own innate gifts.

He couldn't deny that his sword was growing heavy in his hands. That he was feeling sweaty and tired. That he ached all over and with each blow dealt, everything hurt just a bit more. His opponent swung his sword one handed, landing a vicious blow against his own blade so hard it made his arms tremble. Unable to stand against the sheer power of the strike, his hands slipped off his blade and he was sent crashing into a pillar.

The heavy marble shook as he struck it, raining small pieces of rubble and rock dust over him. Sephiroth stumbled up off the floor, touching his now bleeding forehead lightly as he glared at his opponent. He hadn't expected that.

The guardian waited, watching him with his one, glassy eye.

When the sword was in his hand again, he noticed the man staring at him. A hoarse chuckle escaped the man's lips and he shook his head as if truly disappointed, gnarled face creased in private amusement...the skin around his shadowed eyes crinkling like used wrapping paper.

"Is that it? And you call yourself a guardian..."

Sephiroth bristled at the insinuation but did not answer him as his hands tightened around the handle of his sword. Eyes blazing, he snapped his head up. The action caused him to stagger and sway, and it was only with great effort that he kept himself on his feet. How irritating it was to be a human. Snorting bitterly at the thought, he spat out the blood in his mouth and raised his sword.

"Hmph. Stubborn."

"You talk too much, old man," Sephiroth snapped, irritated not only by the irony of the statement but that a thin tremor of anger could be heard in his voice.

Nearly snarling, he launched himself at his opponent taking down pillars and statues to provide him with cover that was as distracting as it was deadly. The guardian wasn't all that bothered by Sephiroth's sudden explosion of furious action nor the falling chunks of ceiling. His casual demeanor still held up, but there was a glimmer of worry in his eye. As if he could see things others couldn't with that one good eye of his.

Whether or not he could wasn't what worried the former general at the moment.

Sephiroth could feel true exhaustion tingling on the edge of his awareness and he knew he'd have to end it soon. He knew this last spurt was all he had left in him. Problem being, the old man knew it too.

Before he could even formulate a plan, the guardian made his move. It was abrupt and devastatingly violent. Using the flat edge of his sword as a blunt instrument, he sent Sephiroth sailing into the wall, the ceiling...the remaining pillars in the temple, anything hard, solid and unmovable. The world was spinning harshly, and as his consciousness went in and out, memories of his final battle with Strife surfaced. This was exactly how it had ended then. With blow after relentless blow, coming at him so fast that all he could do was stare dumbly into space as his vision went white.

He might just die here.

And there was a second or two that he almost welcomed it...but for one small fact that sent him hurtling back into the world.

He was very tired of getting the shit kicked out of him.

He couldn't lose. Shouldn't...wouldn't. Not again.

The darkness he'd feared since waking in this new life. The smallest speck of taint that the planet had been unable to remove awakened and coursed through blood, bone and tissue like poison and in the moment, Sephiroth did nothing to stop it.

A sound much like a gun shot ricocheted against the hollow walls of the temple as the tiles he stood on cracked and crumbled to dust beneath his feet. Power pulsed around him, lifting his hair lightly so that it danced as if strummed by an eerie, distant wind.

The guardian frowned, watching the transformation with increasing wariness. And when Sephiroth lifted his head to look at him from underneath his bangs his eyes glowed as brightly as they had when he was at the height of his former power and more worryingly, the pupils that were once quite human had shrunk to slits.

Moving faster than the eye could register; Sephiroth surged forward and attacked without reason or mercy. His opponent could do nothing more than deflect his blows, for the former general and madman was far too fast for him to let his guard down. Dancing 'round the temple with profound, vicious grace, their swords struck like bending, flashing light as more of the temple was destroyed with each swing.

At first, Sephiroth had sought to end this but as the pain and darkness overwhelmed, he lost sight of his goal just as he had before. Instead, he was consumed by all the feelings he'd suppressed. They exploded from his fingers and from his fingers; they bled into his blade, which seemed to scream with each stroke. The sweet tang of metal against metal became cacophonous and soon he could hear nothing but it and the steady pulse of his own raging heart.

The guardian's eyes widened, seeing the pale sheen of madness behind his opponent's eyes. There was nothing for it. Grunting, he braced for one last blow. Allowing it to land, he struggled for a moment before loosening his grip. His sword flew from his hands. He glared steely eyed and empty handed, silent as he waited to see what the boy would do. Neither paid heed to the massive blade as it landed with an unpleasant thunk, embedding itself in the temple's ancient tile.

The world around them was dreadfully still and there was little sound but for Sephiroth's own ragged breathing. Shaking and spasming, he held the masamune to the guardian's neck. Unaware of his own exhaustion and his injuries, his mind was focused entirely on the man in front of him. The sword was heavy in his hands and he could barely hold it, his grip trembling as he pressed it against flesh. His mind was still clouded by adrenaline and the curse that lived inside him still.

Inhaling shakily, he closed his eyes. There was no internal war. No one-sided monologue or logical deductive reasoning that stopped him. He merely exerted control over his body and it responded, reversing the transformation as he lowered his blade.

All it would have taken was a simple swing. Not even a swing. Just a flick of his wrist and the guardian...his opponent...would be no more--if he were corporeal to begin with, that is. One way or the other ending a life was a surprisingly simple thing that took very little effort.

Taking another tremulous breath, he opened his eyes and sheathed his sword. When he thought about this moment later on he wasn't sure why he _hadn't _done it. His sword just seemed to lower on its own and for a moment he could have almost sworn that he heard it sing a low and mournful melody...as if begging him not to sully its blade anymore than he already had.

His eyes were clear, his mind lucid and still his own, he gazed at the guardian as if he'd just woken from a dream. There was a strange moment of realization between both men. Nothing was said out loud, but there was and understanding between them nevertheless.

The man smiled, his only eye dimming with the deepest sorrow, as he spoke, mostly to himself, "You shouldn't have come...but here you are...do you know what it was you came here for?"

Looking away, Sephiroth answered softly, "It doesn't matter."

"Fool."

Shaking his head, the guardian reached inside his cloak and pulled from it a sphere of dark, twining light. It expanded outward and engulfed the temple. Everything disappeared into its vortex until nothing was left but a vast, suffocating void. For the most part Sephiroth was nonplussed. Gods and spirits seemed to delight in light shows and magic tricks to impress the superstitious. Displays of power meant nothing so long as he got what he came for.

The guardian glared at him solemnly. His hand outstretched, fingers uncurling to reveal what looked like a perfectly innocent round, black stone. Sephiroth paled, eyes widening in pure, unadulterated disbelief.

It was the black materia.

The look on the guardian's face seemed to mock him, words etched into his lined face. '_Is this what you've come here for?_'

Sephiroth shook his head. So many memories overwhelmed him. This wasn't what he'd wanted. The girl had said they'd come for a relic, not this. She'd lead them here; he'd only followed her this time. He'd only followed her...just like he had in his last life. He'd followed her and the puppet and he'd taken it, but this time was different. This time he wanted nothing to do with it.

As if sensing his thoughts, the guardian spoke as he stepped forward and rolled the stone to the tip of his fingers, "Always following. Never questioning. But your will is your way. It always has been. You've bested me. This burden is yours."

"I don't want it," Sephiroth whispered, yet despite his objections his hand lifted to accept the materia of its own accord.

"It doesn't matter," he echoed.

Tilting his hand, the old man rolled the materia into Sephiroth's palm.

Brows furrowed, he began to object but stopped short, "Damn you, I—"

The guardian was gone and the temple had reappeared around him. Now he understood why the girl hadn't wanted him to take his sword. She knew he'd fight and she'd known he'd win...and he wasn't here to win. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he'd been sent in here for, much less why.

The old man was right.

Complications. There were always complications.

He stood there for awhile weighing all his options as he stared into the dull surface of the materia in his palm. It wasn't too hard for him to guess why they'd brought it back. In fact, its reappearance was more understandable than his own. After all, if the white materia was reactivated by necessity so would the black materia. Everything had to be in balance and one couldn't exist without the other.

So, leaving it wasn't an option. The guardian had protected the thing and now he was gone. But he certainly didn't want to be saddled with it. There was still power in it, after all. However, this journey he was on had nothing to do with power. That aim belonged to his other self. Now, he just wanted to earn his place in purgatory so that he could continue his penance in peace.

The girl...he could give it to her. Being all pure and holy, she wouldn't be tempted by the materia's power. He could protect her and it without having to take possession of _it_. Best for everyone, really. His fingers tightened around the foul thing. He wanted nothing to do with it, even in passing. And he could just guess what the girl would say if he brought it to her. The look on her face would be priceless for sure.

So, then...he couldn't give it to her and he wouldn't leave it.

"This deal just gets better and better," he thought to himself sullenly.

Dropping the materia to the floor in disgust, he stormed out of the building and walked past a bewildered Cetra, who had been staring out into the swirling mist with an expression of apprehension. He didn't wait for her to follow him, nor did he say a word to her as he passed. At the moment, he didn't particularly want to deal with her even though he knew it was pretty much inevitable. He wasn't really that surprised when he felt her hand tug at his sleeve.

"Hey!"

Tug.

"HEY! Stop!"

Tug. Tug.

"I SAID STOP!"

Sharp tug.

"STOP!"

And so he did.

"Did you find it?"

He closed his eyes briefly and took a very deep breath.

"Yes."

And when he didn't answer immediately, he could almost taste her irritation with him. He let it stew because he told himself he didn't care.

"Well??!!" she asked, exasperated.

"I left it in the temple."

"Wha—Why?"

Sephiroth didn't even acknowledge the question, tugging his sleeve away from her hand angrily. This was the second time he'd retrieved a bit of materia for her. Both times, he'd gone to great trouble with no foreseeable reward in it for him...much less anything resembling gratitude. There were several nasty retorts that came to mind. None of which he dared voice. In fact, he didn't trust himself to speak at all right now, so he remained quite silent.

There were five blissful minutes where everything was quiet and all he could hear was the sound of the wind whistling through the valley below them.

The girl broke the silence hesitantly, speaking in hushed tones, "What...what was it?"

"Go in the temple and you'll find out."

She shuffled her feet nervously, saying slowly, "Would you...go with me?"

He gave her a backwards glance, his eyes narrowing with dark incredulity. This flustered her, evidently because she began a stammering explanation replete with over exaggerated hand gestures and frequent blushing. From what he was able to gather from her rambling, nearly incoherent narrative, she'd seen something in the fog and she was scared. What that something was, she didn't know. She'd been too frightened to investigate, choosing to arm herself with a mid-sized rock instead while waiting for him. There was almost a hint of relief in her voice when he relented with a casual shrug.

He didn't go in with her, choosing to wait just outside the door. Looking out into the distance, he focused all thought on the swirling mists that surrounded the temple. The girl had said she'd seen a figure in the fog, so he pretended to be looking for something. It distracted him from the gasp he heard behind him. She'd found what he'd left in there, he supposed.

His ears strained to hear her light footsteps as they came closer and closer, until she was standing right next to him. He didn't dare look at her because he didn't want to see the expression on her face. Bad enough that she'd had to retrieve the very sword that killed her. Now this. The very materia that had been used in his ill-conceived attempt to destroy the world...

She didn't say anything. Neither did he. They both just stood there watching the scenery...what little of it there was. She sighed wearily, moving to place the materia in his hand. He recoiled, putting a good three feet between them as he glowered at her his expression darker than dark.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Giving you the—"

"Well, I don't want it!" He snarled, his lips twitching with barely restrained anger.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the pale faced Cetra. He wasn't about to argue this. It was a non-subject. He'd done exactly as he'd been told and he wanted to move on, though he knew that just declaring that in his mind...it'd never be enough for her. She let him seethe in peace before starting again.

"I know you don't want it...but—"

"But nothing. I got the damned thing for you. Be happy about that and move on."

"_BUT_...I can't keep it. It doesn't belong to me," she said, continuing on when he didn't acknowledge her. "According to the visions, I'd find here something only you could possess."

She held the materia out, hoping he would take it. But she was sadly mistaken. He stalked off into the mist without a word. Those feelings of foreboding returned to him...almost mockingly. Something about this was all off.

The black materia _had_ to be brought back, this he understood. But why...WHY...would the powers that be allow it to be reactivated in this way. They should have kept it hidden. Who would know it was here? No one. Even if they did, there were few who'd brave the journey and even fewer who'd survive the trial to obtain the materia. He'd only beaten the guardian of that temple by a hair and he was well, himself. Albeit, he wasn't the man he used to be, for the most part without his enhanced power and all, but he was still a formidable swordsman.

He was shaken from his concentration when something in the mist ahead flickered. For a second or two, he'd convinced himself it was just his imagination getting the better of him until he saw the slight hint of a shadow. Sephiroth froze, eyes darting back and forth straining to see through the fog. Another flicker. His hand went to his sword. Palms sweaty as they curled solidly against the handle, he tensed in anticipation. Sephiroth didn't relish the thought of engaging in another battle but it would seem he had little choice.

With that thought, his eyes became steely and he drew his blade, readying himself for attack. The mist parted and he nearly dropped his sword in surprise. There stood the chocobo he'd release hours before staring at him with unblinking eyes, cocking its head back and forth as if questioning his sanity. Immediately, he sheathed his sword and stared right back.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said to it. "This is sure as hell unusual."

The chocobo warked sharply, pawing and the ground and bobbing its head as if agreeing with that statement. And it _was _unusual. When freed most chocobos gladly ran back into the wild. It was the rare bird that'd come back to its original handler. Usually, only those bred in captivity demonstrated such behavior. Hell, this chocobo had been "domesticated" less than a day. It should have run out into the wild blue yonder and stayed there. Instead, it came back.

"Huh," was his open ended commentary on the situation at hand.

Shrugging his shoulders, he approached the bird. It skittered back a bit, nodding its head uncertainly. There were a few tentative moments when he wasn't sure the bird would come but in the end the chocobo cantered right up to him to bump its head against his hand.

"Amazing."

"Yes, it is."

All she got was a grunt and a semi-polite nod of the head to indicate he heard her. He noted that she'd tied the black materia up in a hanky as she held it loosely in one hand. She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, "_It's still yours and you should take it._" Thankfully, she didn't press the issue with him...this time but he could tell she was still irritated. Most likely, her arguments were being saved for later. For now, tight lipped annoyance was enough to satiate her need to nag him.

"So, it came back then?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"We should be going."

He nodded as he replaced the restraints on the chocobo's head, "Where to?"

"Icicle Village."

"Right."

Within a few minutes of that short conversation, they were off and running. And by nightfall they'd reached the village proper. There was a fair bit of business being done as the last dregs of winter sloughed off to become true spring. Yet there were people dedicated enough to snow sports to spend those last waning days frolicking.

The only place left with any vacancies was the largest ski lodge in the village. Correction...not only the largest but also the most expensive. Even if they could have afforded it, the front desk required an ID and a credit card of some kind to even book a room. She had both but that point was moot as they were attempting to travel incognito. And using a dead woman's credit card was a sure way to send up every red flag in the book.

So it seemed like they might end up spending their first real night on earth holed up in a very drafty cave. Not a pleasant alternative but for awhile it looked like the only option. That is, until one of the locals took pity on what he mistakenly thought was a sweet couple in need of a room for their honeymoon. Or at least that was what the man kept hinting at when he'd offered them his help. Despite being annoyed at the suggestion, he held his tongue. If it meant being able to sleep somewhere warm and dry, there were many things he'd be willing to suffer--some idiot's obnoxious presumption being one of them.

And as a bonus he knew the stupid looking charm bracelets they had been given worked. The old man hadn't recognized him nor had anyone else.

Instead, the old bird pointed them to an abandoned cabin near the edge of town. It had belonged to some big Shinra scientist and his wife a long time ago. Apparently, the man had died suddenly and with the dissolution of Shinra as a multi-continental corporation no one had claimed the property. The state had sold it to this man two years back and now he rented it out usually for a week at a time to tourists. Seeing as the season was winding down; he didn't mind renting it out for just a night or two for a couple in need.

With a knowing smile the old man led them to the cabin and ushered them inside. As the girl was paying him he admonished them not to bother with the equipment in the sitting room. It had belonged to the original owner and for one reason or the next couldn't be removed. He'd warbled on and on about how he didn't like just leaving it there but he really had no choice...so don't touch it...blah...blah...blah. By this point, Sephiroth had tuned him out. It was either that or put his fist through the man's face and though it would make him feel better surely the girl would object.

Minutes later the girl finally managed to pay him and chase the old coot out the door, still rambling, as he handed her the key. Once the door was firmly shut and locked, he breathed in a kind of sigh in relief. Neither of them said much as they settled down for the night.

The girl turned to him and with a sharp look in her eyes, she asked, "Which room do you want?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I think I'll take the downstairs bedroom."

He grunted by way of reply. She_ would _take the only actual bedroom. The only other choice was a pull out bed in the sitting room with the equipment. Not that he minded...

"I'm gonna take a bath. That okay?"

He repressed the urge to look at her strangely and nodded instead. Like he'd care if she did or didn't. He supposed she was just being polite, which was a pleasant alternative to the usual curt, barely suppressed hatred he was so accustomed to. While the girl was bathing he tended to the chocobo and brought in their belongings. Tidying up a bit here and there, he stumbled upon some sheets he could use and set about fixing his "bed" up for the night. The girl came out of her bath shortly thereafter, smelling like soap and rose hips as she passed.

"Bathroom's free."

"Clearly..." he mumbled as he headed for the bathroom, well aware of the undercurrent of tension behind her suddenly improved manners.

Much to his irritation, she'd used up most of the warm water and he was forced to take a lukewarm shower. Trundling out of the bathroom half dressed with his hair hanging in a tangled mess down his back he began to prepare to go to bed. He'd found it distasteful to do so in the ancient city. Well, he found sleep distasteful all the way around. He never quite liked the idea of surrendering himself completely to his unconscious mind. Some might suppose it was because he feared never waking. This was an untruth. He feared waking up more than anything else because invariably he never knew what he'd be waking _to_ and that was more terrifying than anything else. However, it seemed he'd have to sleep one way or the other as he was very, _very_ tired. And sore.

He was in the middle of making the bed when she came into the room dressed in nothing but her slip and a towel which was wrapped around her head in a lopsided turban. Her arms were crossed and she had the same sharp look in her eyes as she had before she'd taken her bath. He'd never been in a long term relationship but he was knowledgeable enough to interpret the hard glint in the eyes of an angry woman. Not to mention the fact that he'd seen that look on her face before. Well really, it was the_ only_ look she ever gave him.

Sighing, he didn't bother to look up as he asked, "What?"

"The temple," she replied shrewishly. "What happened?"

"I told you."

"Uh, Yeah...not so much telling me as it was..._walking away_," she huffed.

"I did what you told me to. What more do you want?"

"Well, _actual_ answers would be nice for a change."

"There was a guardian. I fought him. He lost. End of story," he explained brusquely.

"Yeah, got that. What did he say?" she enunciated, not bothering to hide the sarcastic indignation.

He sharply re-tucked one corner of the sheet in response. There was no way he'd let her get the idea that this was an avenue of conversation that could or would ever be explored.

"He told you what I told you, didn't he?" She stated more than asked, and rather smugly too. "That it's yours."

Unfurling the top sheet, he proceeded to flick it over the pull out until it settled on the mattress in a reasonably neat fashion. He was still ignoring her quite well as he tucked the sheet underneath the mattress firmly, though he could feel her steely gaze on the back of his neck...figuratively speaking. Fact was--she was staring right at him. If he looked up, he'd be able to see the dark scowl on her face. There was a loud thump. He realized, dimly, that she'd stomped her foot which meant that he'd really made her mad.

A few moments later, she shouted crossly, "Why are you being so stubborn about this?!!!"

He smoothed the sheets, pausing to answer her, "I wouldn't have gone in there had I known. Weren't expecting that, were you? Or perhaps you were. Maybe it's what you counted on."

"What's that got to do with anything?" She demanded, her brain coming to a screeching halt as his words sunk in. "Are you accusing me of something?"

He answered her question with one of his own, "You think I like having my every mistake flung in my face...every day...on the hour, every hour? Gives you a great laugh, doesn't it? Get to see me squirm—"

Her face turned beet red, and she exploded, "Oh, yeah! It's just great! Just PERFECT! Just a BARREL of laughs!" She continued on, teeth bared as she furiously jabbed a finger at him. "Get this straight. I take absolutely NO joy from any part of this. Giving back _that_ sword and _that_ materia back _to you_ makes me sick to my stomach. BUT...I did it. _This_ materia," she said, holding it out for him to see, "...is _your_ burden. And you damned well better take it."

"I don't WANT IT!!" He roared, shaking with rage; his voice raising with each word.

The silence after his proclamation was thunderous. Chest heaving, he could barely even look at the girl's pale, terrified face. She brought it on herself, after all. He wouldn't feel guilty about it. Not this time. Was she so dense that she didn't understand?

Recovering herself, she hissed quietly, "So...I'm to be saddled with it then?"

Yes, clearly, she didn't understand.

In lieu of an answer, he let silence speak for him as he calmly continued to make his bed. The girl exhaled shakily and grumbled something under her breath that he just barely caught but couldn't be pressed to care about. Once he was sure she was gone he sat down on the bed...head in his hands. To say it had been a long day would be a grievous understatement. Rubbing his face, he sighed and stood to finish his task before going to bed.

Sleep had never come easily for him. Getting there was half the problem, staying there was even harder. The slightest sound was likely to awaken him. This night was no different than nights previous. For awhile, he stared at the ceiling until his eyes drooped, then shut. Sleep was as elusive as ever and he found himself sleeping for twenty to thirty minutes at a time before waking abruptly.

Tossing and turning fitfully, he finally gave up. No matter how hard he tried now sleep wouldn't come to him. He stared at the ceiling again, thinking of nothing in particular. His mind was moving thoughts around so fast that he barely had time to keep up. In a way, his piercing intelligence was a blessing and a curse. It gave him one up on the competition but on nights like these—he almost wished he was an idiot who slept well.

The room was, for the most part, completely dark but far from silent. There was the slightest hint of bluish-grey light that he supposed came from the window. A million little bumps and clicks made themselves known as he stared at the dark room. From the sound of the house settling, to the slushy rain pelting against the windows...right down to the thump of snow as it slid off the roof and the ticking equipment behind him...there was an inexcusable amount of sound, much too noisy for his liking.

He closed his eyes, laying an arm over his face to blot out the light.

"_Was it really that bright outside?_" he thought briefly, surmising that maybe it was close to daybreak.

If so he was completely boned for rest. Traveling when tired was no one's idea of a good time. It was especially distasteful considering his current company. Blowing out a breath, his busy mind filtered out the subtle din in the room until his ears picked up the distinctive sound of white noise. Then he remembered that he'd closed the curtains. His eyes flew open and he was up and out of bed almost immediately.

The machines that they'd been told not to touch were on, whirring and humming as the mechanics inside worked for the first time in god knows how long. Around all the blinking lights and moving magnetic tape was a single television screen that was hissing snow. Touching the gray-green metal of the console, he frowned.

He'd seen this kind of equipment before. It was an older model Shinra computer. Technology had advanced in such a short time that not many remembered that computers had once taken up whole rooms.

But he remembered. He remembered everything.

He remembered...Professor Gast had a machine _just_ like this. The Professor had used this machine for data collection and video storage for his sessions with his patients. He remembered that sometimes after a particularly good session, Gast would teach him how to make the computer do various things.

His favorite had been the very primitive drawing program that utilized lines of hexadecimal code to manufacture a simple image. He'd drawn a chocobo that way. Spent hours writing and then memorizing the code he'd written on the wall of his cell...Gast had been so proud when he'd shown it to him that he printed it out.

Sephiroth smiled softly at this, unconsciously stroking one of the buttons on the console as he thought. Gast had never referred to him as being a subject. He had always treated him like a human. In fact, he was the only one who'd ever done that and it was something he'd never forget...even after all these years...

This tranquil moment passed and shaking away his remembrances, he put his mind to why the damned thing was on.

His first thought was that the girl had turned it on. If so, she was nowhere to be seen. Besides which, she had seemed to really be listening when the old man told them not to touch it. She didn't strike him as the rule breaking type but she was the only other person in the house. He supposed that perhaps someone could have broken in and turned it on, though he couldn't imagine why anyone would do something so pointless. Maybe the old man had turned it on just so he'd have a reason to complain about something.

Old people were funny that way.

Thoughts of the cabin's owner slunk away once he noticed the playback button was illuminated and blinking like crazy. Curious, he pushed the stop button and then rewound the tape, pushing the playback button. The tape whirred, jumping a bit before it cleared out. He watched the image as it came on-screen and couldn't hold back a surprised gasp.

Professor Gast's face filled the flickering screen.

'_Is this where you went, Professor? What was so important here...?_'

His questions were very quickly answered as the scientist stepped away to reveal the figure he seemed to be talking to over his shoulder. He knew the face of the woman Gast was talking to.

"Ifalna," he whispered to no one in particular.

* * *

Please see my forum for author's notes 


	16. Complicated

_Power can be taken, but not given. The process of the taking is empowerment in itself._

—_Gloria Steinem_

"Ifalna..."

The girl's mother and the man whom he'd thought of as a surrogate father. They'd known each other? Intrigued, his eyes couldn't leave the screen and he would have watched the video end to end but a light from the corner of his eyes made him turn away. Pausing the recording, he tilted his head to look down the hallway just beyond the sitting room.

At first, he'd thought that perhaps the girl was awake. Maybe reading in her room or watching television, because it looked as if she had a light on. Bit by bit, he began to realize that the light didn't come from a television much less any kind of man made lamp. Using every sense he had, he became aware of his surroundings. Foreboding crept in like a stalking cat and he grabbed his sword as the world slowed until it seemed almost motionless.

This was all too convenient. As a naturally suspicious person, he felt manipulated by circumstance. Like someone had counted on him to wake and find the computer on, only to lead him to the girl. It was a game he once had played when he'd been less sane. Yes, someone was toying with them, allowing the puppets to dance on their strings as they moved from one carefully orchestrated circumstance to another. It occurred to him then that it wasn't nearly as much fun being the puppet as it had been the master.

Scowling, he paused a moment before entering her room, pushing his sword from its sheath slightly with his thumb. Whoever the puppet master was, they'd find he wasn't such an easy mark. With a single swift motion, he entered the room and unsheathed his sword...to find it completely empty but for the glowing materia lying on her bed.

He could have kicked himself. Thank god no one was in the room to see his shame. Damned girl. This was somehow her fault.

Sephiroth took a good look at the room, analyzing every single thing about it. Her belongings were strewn all over the bed as if she'd been in the middle of unpacking them. Carelessly, he shifted through them with his free hand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but for the fact that the girl wasn't there. His eyes lighted on the kerchief she'd used to wrap the black materia in. It lay opened and quite empty. The sudden worry that he'd brushed away so easily reared its ugly head.

This was not right.

The white materia, still illuminated, seemed to pulse madly in agreement. He picked it up despite feeling like he really shouldn't. It glowed warmly, almost as if it was trying to comfort him or some such nonsense. Then it dawned on him. This materia never worked unless it was needed. Ifalna had informed him as much. She'd also told him to be wary, intimating but never telling him implicitly that there were those who'd wish to stop their enterprise. He turned to look back down the dark hallway.

Mind slowly turning, he knew the girl wasn't here and he also knew she couldn't de-materialize at will. She had to have left...or she was taken. If she'd been taken, he'd have heard the struggle. There was no why. The girl wouldn't have left in the dead of night like this. Even she wasn't so stupid.

As crazy as it sounded, she could have been lured but even as he thought of this, he could only guess by whom. The white materia pulsed again, the swirling light inside it extending from its cool surface to form a beam that pointed in one direction.

Magic.

He shook his head, not wanting to do what he knew he'd have to and the only comment he had to this, inwardly, was one word.

_Ludicrous_...

The whole situation he found himself in now was ludicrous.

All the things he'd considered mystical nonsense went out the window for this brief moment. Everything about this quest seemed to reach beyond his preconceived notions of the world anyway. So, of course, this was why he found himself striding into the sitting room to put on his clothes because... why not?

That materia was directing him, or at least he thought so. It was showing him which way the girl had gone. And whether she'd been lured or gone out there by her own free will, _and_ despite the fact that he felt very, very silly following a piece of glowing rock, he'd find her hell or high water.

Stepping out the door as he tied his cloak around him, he took a moment to notice the footprints in the scarcity of snow. They led out into the forest. Looking down at the white materia, the thin band of light that illuminated it seemed to point in the same direction. Foolish girl had headed straight through the village to the infamous glacier field just beyond.

Spring was coming so the danger of exposure was less and the winds weren't quite as harsh but it was no place to challenge without proper preparation. He'd seen no sign that she'd taken her boots or her cloak. She'd gone in just the knee length slip he'd last seen her in. Stupid little thing was likely to get herself killed going out like that. He could only hope that he'd find her in time but with every step he traveled, he worried. Because her footprints in the snow never stopped nor wavered, they continued in a straight line towards a direction he didn't like. She was going north, towards Gaea's Cliff.

At the best of times, the area around Gaea's Cliff was a dangerous place to be. Slow unpleasant death lurked there and if the low temperatures and high winds didn't get you, then the creatures that made their home there... would. Worry became reality as he held out the masamune with the white materia in one of its slots. The light that burned from it pointed unwaveringly in the same direction as the footprints.

The bad feeling he'd been trying to ignore all day became an ominous reality as the stars above were blotted, one by one, out of the sky by a vortex of curling black clouds which dispersed like ink in water. The chocobo reared in fright, nearly throwing him off its back before he managed to jerk it back into control. For a moment or two, they just stood there and let the howling wind surround them while snowflakes stirred lazily as they dotted the darkening sky.

He nudged the animal back into a run, struck by how quiet it seemed despite the never ceasing wind. It was as if someone had dampened the air so that no sound carried. The wind pushed against man and bird. After awhile, it didn't matter how much he kicked the chocobo, nothing would move it forward faster. Truth be told, Sephiroth himself was uneasy with what lay ahead and though on the surface he blamed the fierce wind and his intractable chocobo, there was also apart of himself that wasn't all that eager to see what had caused that vortex... which only grew darker and more menacing.

A horrible kind of growling sound pierced the gale as it gusted...rolling over them as they rushed forward. It was so strong and persistent that the chocobo almost seemed to be standing still. They could do nothing but push on, fighting the stinging wind the entire way.

Eventually the storm ebbed and from a distance, he could see the grim line that was Gaea's Cliff through the swirling snow. And what he found when he got there was otherworldly strange and just plain unnerving. He dismounted the chocobo and approached, hoping the bird had enough sense to take cover. Nothing good would come of what was to follow.

The girl stood at the edge of the cliff in her bare feet which he could see were turning an unpleasant blue from the cold. The vortex was above her, wind whipping her hair wildly, the sound accompanied by the flapping of the thin shift she wore. Her back was turned so he couldn't see her face. Something was clenched in her right hand, pulsating in alternating waves of black and purple like a bruise.

The black materia.

She was using the materia... she was the source of this storm. His eyes traveled upward, mouth agape as he stared at the sky half expecting a ball of molten rock to come hurtling through the atmosphere. Lightening gutted the clouds, thunder growling behind it as the parts of the sky turned the fierce, brilliant red of a bleeding wound. The vortex became stronger, fed by the constant lightening that struck at the cliff, sending large chunks of rock into the swirling mass of clouds.

His charge teetered at the edge of all this, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she watched the chaos detachedly. She rocked a bit too far forward and would have fallen had he not caught her in time. He pulled her back by her shoulder, noting how uncomfortably cold her skin was.

Sephiroth was overcome by a rather curious awkward feeling. He wasn't sure what he should do. How to stop this? The girl couldn't help him as she was in some sort of fugue state. Before he could even blink, he was sent flying backwards by some power that leaked through the girl's skin. His fall was so violent, so brutal, that he blacked out for awhile and when he came to his entire body ached, most of all, the hand that had touched her shoulder. It was red and blistered as if he'd been burned. Breathing heavily, he lay there for a moment to recover. When he collected himself enough to sit up, he could do nothing but stare in awe as the girl slowly turned around.

Her hair blew across her face like a tangled spider's web, clawing at her unearthly pale skin as if it were trying to escape. The black materia was still pulsating as its power leeched into her. It crawled underneath, drawing dark vein-like designs across her flesh. Traveling ever upward. All the while, she stared at him. Her eyes were unseeing, hopelessly blank and lifeless while her lips, a dark purple from being in the cold so long, moved soundlessly as if she were talking to someone only she could hear. She shook her head, face contorting in something that resembled mournful denial as the veins of the black materia's power twined 'round her arms and to her torso.

He followed them as they curled up her neck and onto her face. Then they reached her eyes. Like twisting smoke, the darkness breathed itself into her...her eyes...her hair...the rippling veins underneath her skin... it took the color... the life... from her and replaced it with putrid black. Her mouth opened to scream but no sound came out as her back arched beyond normal human capacity.

The black materia had fully merged with her.

She looked at him with those lifeless eyes and she smiled.

It was the most unpleasant thing he'd ever seen.

The ground beneath him shook violently. A jagged fissure opening under his feet as the girl smiled on. With a flick of her wrist, large chunks of ice erupted from the crack in the ground.

He dodged them... just barely, staring back at the girl with a look of pure disbelief.

Her smile only grew wider and more twisted, eyes glinting as she nodded her head and whispered: "Die."

Entire mounds of dirt and ice were flung at him rapidly with only a few seconds in between for him to react. He managed to hold his own in avoiding the rocks but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The fight he'd gotten in before had tired him, moreover he was injured. Not badly but enough to slow him down. Blows that he normally would have been able to avoid connected, hitting him hard in the shoulders, on his back. It hurt like hell.

No matter what he did, he couldn't get close to her and with each moment, it became more obvious to him that he had to stop this. Her power was connected to the earth. The black materia was corrupting her somehow and that corruption was transferred through her everything around her. In-between dodging projectiles, he noticed some of the trees at the edge of the glacier field were wilting. It was a little hard to tell at first, as far away from them as he was, but as seconds passed it became very noticeable when trees that stood tall and proud began to bend towards the earth their leaves and needles turning a dull grayish black.

"Damn everything," he grunted, dodging a medium sized boulder barely in time.

His attention was on the girl again as he darted forward through the line of fire. Most of the larger bits of debris he managed to bat away or cut through, everything else hit him but it didn't matter. He had to get to her. He had to stop this.

The thing that was and was not the flower girl noticed him, her narrowing darkly as the voice that whispered just behind her told her what to do. Swiping her hand lazily through the air, she directed a large boulder in Sephiroth's direction. It tumbled towards him, spinning awkwardly in the air and occasionally scoring the ground.

His eyes widened. He knew he couldn't avoid a direct hit and his power was such that there'd be no way for him to cut it in time but damned if he didn't try anyway. Lifting the masamune, he prepared to strike knowing that he'd never have time to complete the swing in the way he wanted. He was prepared for death, even one as ignominious as this. His eyes were open as he faced his fate.

So he was nearly blinded when the white materia chose that moment to activate. It shined more brightly than a star, creating a luminous barrier around him that was strong enough to break the boulder into fragments. He was beyond stunned, staring at the materia in the hilt of his sword disbelievingly.

It had protected him.

It was still protecting him.

The materia glowed brilliantly, a thin sliver of its light still leading to the girl.

Or more appropriately, just over her shoulder.

Narrowing his eyes, he stared at that spot through the swirling debris aimed at him. The air just behind the girl shimmered. There was a shadow there. When she'd absorbed the black materia it had seemed like she was talking to someone... or something. Perhaps this was the puppet master he'd been looking for.

He bum rushed the girl, knocking her away to get at the shadow behind her. With a single stroke, he cut it and the shadow dispersed. For a moment, he almost felt victorious.

Instead of elation... there was sudden, searing pain. A medium sized icicle, about the size and shape of a wooden stake, had imbedded itself just beneath where his left arm met his shoulder. His sword fell from nerveless fingers, arm dropping to uselessly dangle at his side.

He looked down at it contemplatively, before mumbling, "Oh... shit..." as his knees crumpled beneath him.

He didn't so much black out as he closed his eyes to the pain, overwhelmed by a dizzy nauseous feeling. Dimly in the back of his mind he realized he was going into shock. Breathing rapidly and in bleary agony he tried to keep it together, spying a figure out of the corner of his eye. Clutching at his shoulder, he tried to roll himself over to get a good look even as spots of black and gray overtook his vision. The flower-girl stood over him now. Sword in hand. She waited until he struggled to a semi-sitting position so she could point the tip at the exact place on his back where he'd struck her.

His sword hand now disabled and without his blade, he could do nothing but turn his head ever so slightly. Their eyes met and he could see it. She meant to kill him. He laughed bitterly at the irony... he was dead already. His wound was bleeding out around the icicle, which was melting rapidly. Not to mention that he was probably bleeding internally as well. This didn't stop him from one last act of pure desperation. Summoning the very last of his strength, he spun around and grabbed the blade in his bare hand.

Looking the girl dead in the eye, he was silent for a long time... struggling to breathe as his fingers tightened around the sword until his knuckles turned white. The slushy sound of a large quantity of blood hitting the ground could be heard. He would end this one way or another. And as he looked into those black, glassy eyes of hers, so soulless and empty, something in him surrendered to his fate.

If this was to be the end, so be it.

Saving the world? It was something he was ill equipped to do. He was no hero. He couldn't save the world. Couldn't save the girl. Perhaps he could only stop things before they got too bad. It would have to be enough...

"You... you deserve r-revenge," he rasped, guiding the sword tip to his heart and resting it against the soft flesh between two of his ribs.

His eyesight was failing him. The dark goddess that was the girl was becoming dim and circled in gray.

"Angle it... up," he advised huskily, pressing the tip further in until it actually began to pierce his skin.

Everything went deathly still then. Perhaps the vortex had stopped or perhaps it was the blood loss playing with his hearing, he couldn't be sure. He gazed at the girl, his vision so blurred at this point that she was nothing more than pale mist bleeding into the dark sky. The shadow he'd been so sure he'd seen manifested for a moment and in his delirious state he grunted numbly in acknowledgement of his utter defeat. Unbeknownst to him, the girl was struggling with herself, confusion written on her face.

Irritated, he growled breathlessly. "What are you waiting for?! Do it!"

Pushing the blade in even farther, he thought that if he could stand right now he might just have walked into the sword himself to speed up the process. The girl's grip trembled and the thick darkness fought her as hard she fought against it. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't what it promised.

His hand was losing strength; blood caked his fingers making it doubly hard to hold the blade the way he wanted. He attempted to do what she would not but his fingers wouldn't cooperate, so he could do nothing but sit there half impaled on his own sword. Losing consciousness fast, he tried to speak but his lips could only move numbly.

His head lolled, eyes fluttered and he breathed thick gummy air that left him starving for more. The white materia was glowing more brightly than he ever thought possible. He could barely see the girl and only knew she was there through the anchor the sword provided him. It was reality and the light, the light was...

Warm

He closed his eyes and let it wash over him; oblivion stealing away his awareness of the world.

It was a gentle but insistent nudge to his head that brought him back. He barely reacted to it, unable to do much more than groan dully in protest. Squeezing his eyes firmly shut, he tried to sink back into unconsciousness. His attempt was duly thwarted by the nudger, who took to pulling at his hair because, clearly, a change of tactics was in order. A particularly hard yank woke him almost immediately. Groggily, he lashed out half-heartedly, swiping at whoever or whatever was tugging on his hair. His hand met the smooth beak of a chocobo. Turning his head, he blinked tiredly. The chocobo blinked back, warking so loudly that it made him wince visibly.

Setting a firm hand on its neck, he greeted the bird grumpily. "All right, already. I'm up."

But the chocobo didn't stop. It stamped impatiently, bobbing its head and occasionally pulling at his clothes or hair. Sephiroth tried his best to ignore the animal while simultaneously suppressing his annoyance with its antics though he did have to admit he was impressed... and glad that the bird had made it out of this ordeal alive.

Evidently, the bird was smart enough to know when to go for cover...and even smarter in that it knew to come back when all was well again. Smart enough to know it had to wake him up. It was a bit eerie and in the deepest recesses of his mind he wondered if the bird had been sent by the planet somehow. No wild animal was that intelligent or loyal.

Waving it away, he set his mind to more important things, such as the fact that he was alive. If he recalled correctly he'd been near death. Stranger still, there was no pain. Checking his shoulder, he poked his fingers through the hole in his clothing to probe for a wound and found nothing but smooth, unmarred skin. The same could be said for all the countless nicks, cuts, and contusions over the rest of his body. All that was left behind were bloodstains.

Looking down curiously, he opened his palm and instead of a bloody gash he found the black materia nestled in his grasp. So, the suicidal plan he was sure would fail actually worked. A wave of bitterness and recrimination spread through him. He should have listened to the girl. She'd been right, damn her. Tightening his fingers over the materia, he looked up at the sky and saw an endless field of stars. It was by far the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and it made him oddly sad.

He stared up at the stars for an unusually long time, contemplating everything and nothing. For the first time in a long time, the shrieking winds that buffeted Gaea's Cliff quieted down and transformed themselves into a gentle breeze. Snow began to drift slowly from the midnight sky. The tranquility of the sight was a bit unsettling but on the whole welcome after what he'd been through the last few hours.

It occurred to him that he had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. He was warm. Too warm for the area he was in. He should have frozen to death, a thought which was punctuated by his sudden awareness of how cold he now was. Shivering, he attempted to stand but lost his balance. His legs were still weak and unstable.

It was all so puzzling. The strange feeling of weakness coupled with the lack of pain and mended wounds. It was as if he'd cast a particularly powerful healing spell which was impossible. The only spells he'd ever been able to access naturally without materia were offensive spells. All the defensive spells he'd used always came from equipped materia. There was no way he'd be able to cast something so powerful _now_ even with the right materia. The girl... she'd been under the influence of powerful black magic which naturally blocked most defensive healing spells.

So... the why was beyond him. Perhaps it had something to do with his sword and the white materia.

Thinking about it a bit, he remembered a book on alchemy he once read. He'd considered it an amusing waste of time as most of the information, if it could even be called that, was complete hogwash. However, he did recall one passage that had always stuck with him. The concept that blood contained power and that using it when attempting certain transmutations could enhance a spell's effects. Not that he'd believe such nonsense but in this case the idea that his blood had caused some reaction between the sword and the materia was a somewhat feasible conclusion.

A soft sob broke his reverie, followed by the chocobo's renewed nudging.

The girl lay in a crumpled heap on the ground not five feet from him. Her skin was just as pale as it had been before but the dark veins were gone. She looked pathetic, small and broken just laying there shivering from the cold. This was all his fault. If only he hadn't been so stubborn...

The chocobo nudged him one last time, sticking its head out to allow him to grasp onto it for leverage. After a few tries, he managed to successfully latch onto the animal's neck to stand, leaning on it for several minutes until his legs regained some strength. Once he was sure he could move about unaided, he strode over to the girl, untying his cloak as he went. When he got to her, he set it gently over her shivering form while he attempted to help her up. She was like a rag doll, flopping bonelessly when he attempted to right her, all the while weeping quietly. Pulling the cloak around her more securely, he picked her up and she let him without protest going limp in his arms.

Unsure of how he was going to get her on the chocobo, he pondered this conundrum for a second or two, shifting the girl in his arms to ease his own discomfort. She was by no means very heavy, nor was she all that light besides which she wasn't holding herself up at all.

The bird solved this problem for him by lowering itself so he could mount the chocobo without having to let go of the girl or force her into awareness enough to get on herself. Gaea's Cliff chose that moment to return to its former state of being as the wind picked up. With a none too gentle kick he encouraged the chocobo into a run, heading straight for the village.

They arrived at the cabin without incident though the girl had cried the entire way there. In fact, she hadn't stopped crying. Far from it. The intensity of her weeping had inexplicably ratcheted up once they'd gotten into the equipment/living room. Thoroughly confused, he decided it was just best to focus on one problem at a time. Whatever magic he had or hadn't cast had healed their physical wounds and allowed them to survive for a short time in the bitter cold. Even so, the ride back to the cabin hadn't been so forgiving.

The girl was deathly cold and wet. A bad combination.

He took his damp and blood soaked cloak from her and carelessly draped it over an old recliner in the corner. Stripping the girl of her wet clothing and redressing her in drier, warmer clothes proved to be less of a problem than he'd initially thought. Without a hitch in her non-stop blubbering, she just sat there passively and cried while he peeled her wet clothes off of her. At one point she tried to get up, mumbling between sobs about wanting a warm bath, a thought which he swiftly put out of her head, sitting her down forcibly and informing her of what a stupid idea it was.

"A healer should know better," he chided as he buttoned up the thick lavender shirt she'd stained in the ancient city.

It wasn't clean, he knew, but it had insulated panels that'd keep warmth in, which was just what she needed right now. She hiccupped and coughed in an attempt to dislodge the excess phlegm in her throat. It made her crying more watery and disgusting, with all the sniffles, snogs and gurgling sobs. He hoped she'd stop soon; he wasn't good at dealing with things like this. Despite all Ifalna's helpful instruction in the ways of human emotion, he couldn't help but feel discomforted in the face of such naked sorrow. She stopped for a moment and he held his breath as he pulled a sock over her foot, hoping it was the end.

The girl gasped and coughed and began again. He pulled on the other sock, irritation growing with every choking sob. This was just ridiculous. Fearing he might lose his temper, he went to the linen closet to retrieve a blanket hoping that by the time he returned she'd stop. Instead, she only seemed to cry harder. Storming into the room, he angrily whipped the blanket over her. She let it slip off one shoulder. Annoyed, he fixed the blanket so it fell properly, only to have it slip off again. This happened no less than a half dozen times. Fed up with the crying and her inability to do much more than that, he held the blanket in place and glared at the girl.

"Girl," he said, shaking her slightly.

Her head flopped limply when he did it, making the sound of her weeping waver only slightly.

"Stop this!"

She didn't respond in the way he wanted. There was just more of the same. He shook her again, this time more forcefully. It only made the crying more intense.

"Damn it, Woman," he growled sharply, anger and frustration evident in his voice.

She winced and shuddered, shying away from his touch, struggling to get away from him. Her eyes were narrowed and puffy from her tears as she trembled. She was afraid. With a shaky breath, he calmed himself.

He spoke to her more softly than he ever had before, loosening his hold on her, "Aeris. Stop it."

It was the first time he'd ever said her name out loud and her reaction to it was immediate. The tears and the sobs died down and though she still shook it wasn't nearly as violent. After a few minutes, she calmed completely, her breath only hitching occasionally. Whatever strange state of psychological distress she'd been in was for the most part over. She looked at him, pulling the blanket around her almost protectively.

"You're alive," she observed haltingly, her dewy eyes wide and frightened as she pointed to the hole in his tunic.

"Of course I am," he scoffed arrogantly, pulling the fabric back to show the smooth skin beneath. "It takes more than _that_ to kill me."

"You said my name."

"And?"

She shrugged, unable to voice why it seemed so significant to her. He half expected her to object to him undressing her. She'd made such a big deal of it before when she'd thought he'd done it, surely now that he _actually_ _had_ she'd take the opportunity to reignite her righteous indignation. He wasn't expecting her oddly simple reply. It disturbed him and he stood abruptly, feeling the same strange sense of momentousness, as if everything had changed because he'd said one word.

Shaking it off, he headed into the kitchen without a word to busy himself with mundane things. He washed his hands, afterwards taking off his tunic so that he could wash the blood out. Anything to get his mind off the 'moment' he'd had in the living room with the girl. He didn't like the sensations it was causing because he was feeling something he didn't understand.

Rubbing the fabric furiously under the kitchen tap, he didn't hear the girl enter.

"You should use cold water."

He jumped a little in his own stoic way by turning his head slightly to glare at her.

"What?"

"On a blood stain. You should use cold water if you want to get it out," she explained.

He did as he was told. The blood stain slowly lifted off the fabric. Too slowly. He wasn't all that particular about how well it'd rise out so he stopped after awhile, once his fingers were too cold and tired to work any longer. There was still a small brownish stain on his tunic. It'd do. He wrung it out, conscious that the girl was still in the room and staring at his shirtless back.

Mid-wring, she commented quietly: "You should let it soak overnight. Otherwise the stain'll set..."

Ignoring her, Sephiroth wrung the shirt out a final time, striding over to the bathroom to hang it over the shower rod to dry. The girl followed him like a little shadow and it was more than a little disconcerting. He returned to the kitchen with her right behind him. Turning and glaring, he crossed his arms over his chest, silently demanding...he wasn't sure what from her. For once, she was the one who couldn't meet his eyes and she looked at her own twiddling fingers.

"Well?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he intended.

"I don't want to be alone..."

"Hn," he grunted, regarding her for a second or two before demanding she sit.

Sephiroth didn't wait to see if she'd obeyed his order as he was too busy rummaging through the cupboards. After a bit of searching, he found a few bags of plain black tea and a decanter of brandy. It would serve his purposes and he quietly set some water to boil, sitting down at the table in the seat just across from the girl to wait. A long awkward silence ensued much like all the other long awkward silences they had to endure before but for one reason or another, this one seemed far worse.

"You want to know what happened," she stated dully, drawing circles on the kitchen table.

He snorted, thinking that she was exceptionally predictable. Her first instinct was to interrogate and she assumed he operated in the same manner. The tea kettle hissed shrilly and the smooth, sarcastic reply he had formed in his mind was forgotten. With practiced, nearly automatic motion, he prepared the tea. Not noticing that the girl was watching his hands as they worked, fascinated by their grace. His fingers were long and calloused. They didn't seem to be the kind of fingers or hands that were meant to prepare tea.

She was so absorbed by it that all she could see were his fingers when he'd offered her a cup. Tilting her head back, she looked up at him with vague confusion. She really didn't understand him.

"Take it," he said quietly, still holding the cup in his outstretched hand. "It's hot. Be careful."

She nodded, gingerly grasping the cup by its handle. Breathing in the steam, she looked up at him and spoke, her voice questioning. "You _do_ want to know what happened, don't you?"

He sat down and drank his tea thoughtfully. "Not particularly." A pause and then he continued, almost lightly, "I suspect you don't know much more than I do anyway."

Aeris couldn't think of what to say, so she just shrugged and turned her attention to her tea. Taking a sip, she was surprised as it was peculiarly spicy, tasting unlike any tea she'd ever tried. She took another hesitant sip and was rewarded with the same odd aftertaste. Smacking her lips, she tried to pinpoint what was wrong with it. Her only thought was that perhaps the tea bags were old and had gone a bit off. Then she remembered the strange looking container filled with a reddish liquid that he'd taken out and set next to their cups when preparing it.

"What did you put in the tea?" she questioned apprehensively.

He glanced up after taking another languid sip from his cup casually. "Poison."

She coughed madly, nearly spitting the mouthful of tea she'd drunk back into her cup. A corner of his mouth moved up and there was a sparkle in his eye that wasn't there before. He shook his head and made a sound that could be almost be described as a laugh.

"Brandy," he clarified simply. "It'll help you sleep."

She looked a bit disturbed at this but took another sip anyway. They sat in companionable silence for a great deal of time. Having finished his tea, he set the cup in the sink and sat back down, interlacing his fingers as he gazed thoughtfully at the girl. She noticed and sipping daintily while looking over the rim of her cup, she gave him an inquiring look that bade him to speak up.

"Something bothers me," he began with a sigh.

Speaking with her had always proved difficult. She was difficult. But his thoughts wouldn't detangle themselves until he said what he had to say. His initiation of conversation was just as strange to her as it was to him and she didn't hide her confusion.

Pouting, she canted her head. "What?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure, I guess," she replied warily, mildly creeped out by the civil tone of his voice.

"The equipment in the living room...it's on. Do you have any idea why?"

The girl paled, intently staring at the contents of her cup. Without looking up, she slowly shook her head 'no'.

"Do you know how they were turned on?"

Trembling, she spoke softly. "No. It. It was...just on. It woke me up..."

"So you went to turn it off?" He waited until she nodded in affirmation. "Then what happened?"

"I...don't remember much," she mumbled, obviously pained.

Hazarding a guess, he pressed on. "You saw the video, didn't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"What was on it?"

She went ashen and stiffened. "I don't want to talk about it."

His eyes narrowed. There was something on that tape then. Something that set her off. He could tell she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation but he wasn't about to stop.

Keeping his tone conversational, he asked: "Did you have the black materia with you when you watched it?"

"Yes," she choked out, the beginnings of tears appearing at the corners of her eyes.

"What happened?"

"I told you I don't remember!" she exclaimed defensively.

"On the contrary. I think you do," he insisted, speaking each word carefully. "Tell me what happened."

"No," she growled, her lip trembling while she stared resolutely at her cup and not at him. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

The seconds ticked by and he watched her, content to wait until she stopped being so foolish. It wasn't so easy for Aeris. She could feel his eyes on her. It was like a physical weight, making the urge to lash out at him hard to hold back. Sadistic bastard that he was, he didn't much care how discomfited she was. Unlike her, he wasn't content to merely start a biting, sarcastic argument only to give up when the fight became too rough or too personal. He'd have his say and find out what he wanted in the end.

Setting her cup down forcefully, she didn't even wait for the china to stop clattering. "I'm going to bed."

"No, you're not," he commanded, in such a cold voice that the girl actually froze mid motion when he said it. She moved her mouth to object, but he cut her off with another order. "Sit." Pointing to the chair when she didn't immediately obey.

"I'm not a dog," she spat irately.

Yet she sat down, glaring at him with her hands held tightly in her lap. The tables had effectively been turned. And both realized just how much had changed in such a short time. Without even blinking, he requested again that she tell him what happened. She didn't answer at first, childishly keeping her silence just to annoy him. But after awhile the game got tiresome and she broke down.

Face contorted in sorrow, she spoke, her voice was so soft that it could barely be heard and he had to lean over the table to catch her whispered words.

"...Everything was so dark... there was nothing but pain... and ...everything went sort of b-blurry." A quiet sob interrupted her thoughts and she gazed wildly around the room trying to regain her composure. Once she calmed herself down somewhat, she continued tearfully, her voice hoarse from the effort it took to speak. "...There were... there were voices..."

Unable to finish her sentence, her will was sapped and she dissolved into weakly choked out tears. Sephiroth stood without a word and took her cup. Dumping out the tea, he poured straight brandy into it and gave it to her. She took it and hesitating for only a moment, she downed it... still sobbing quietly as she drank.

"There are always voices..." he mumbled, a hint of remorse in his normally expressionless voice."I'm sorry..." And then he paused, finding it hard to say the next few words. Taking a breath, he confessed, "...you were right."

At this, her tears eventually died down and she felt so ashamed of herself she could barely stand the bitter feeling in her heart after having been made to spill it. She couldn't blame him, not directly anyway.

They'd both made mistakes.

Time in the kitchen seemed to shift and stop, and for that moment they were just two people stuck in it. The moment passed but the silence remained. Aeris concentrated on the sounds of the ticking clock and the drip of the faucet to anchor her, to keep her from thinking too much. Sephiroth, on the other hand, filtered it all out to order his thoughts.

Inhaling sharply, he began to speak but stopped when the girl jumped at the sound of his voice. Quirking an eyebrow, he waited for a moment before starting over.

"In your visions, you say they directed you?"

"Yes," she replied tiredly, the tone in her voice relaying what a stupid question she thought it to be.

Cracking his knuckles thoughtfully, he mused out loud, hoping to goad her into a more logical train of thought. "Do you _really_ believe the planet would send you a vision to lead you to the materia that almost destroyed it?"

And think she did. Her eyes widened with the horrifying realization and she shook her head disbelievingly.

"I don't...I don't understand. What are you saying?" she breathed, her voice shaky with fearful anticipation.

"The black materia shouldn't ever have been found, it should have stayed in that temple. Someone or something wanted us to find it," he stated emphatically. "And they have tried to manipulate our situation to their benefit."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? Look what happened," he replied calmly, peering at her over his clasped hands. "This whole journey from the very start was doomed. You've thought that yourself, haven't you? Putting us together..._ with _the black materia. It's a recipe for failure."

"But that's crazy!" she objected, stumbling over her words as the thought sank in. "The planet... my mother would never... it's impossible. Why?"

"Your mother and the planet are pawns. Just like we are. Set to move in the direction that they want us to," he explained as if it were the most elementary conclusion in the world.

"You're just paranoid!" she blurted out, planting her hands firmly on the table. "You actually expect me to believe some faceless, nameless enemy is after us? Where's the evidence! Sure, our situation is bleak but—"

He scoffed, taking malicious delight in pointing out the obvious. "Bleak is hardly a word I'd use for the end of the world which just about happened out there on that cliff tonight!"

"That's not the point."

"No, it IS the point. Paranoid or not, I'm here for a reason, whatever that may be," he paused for a moment, staring at her intently as he spoke. "And I don't think what happened tonight was an accident. This was planned. We were led step by step--."

"It could all be just coincidence," she spoke up, empty hope in her voice.

"No," he countered firmly. "No. There is no unlucky coincidence here. Or have you forgotten how well I led you and your merry band of followers like dogs on a leash?"

She flushed, retorting bitterly: "Oh. I see. You can smell your own then, is that it?" Still angry at him for bringing it up, she glared at him and whispered hatefully, "Bastard."

"Thank you for the compliment...but you know I'm right."

"Fine! You're right!" She relented. "But who? And why? It makes no sense. No one even knows we're here."

"No one on this plane of existence," he said, holding up a hand before she even began to object. "Power is seductive. You have it. They, _whoever they are_, don't. What better reason to take it from you? I'm sure your mother told you this journey wouldn't be easy. And I'm also sure she told you what she told me, that there would be those who would try to stop us. Enemies from within."

"Yes, but..." she stammered, looking away as all the fire to deny it died.

Sephiroth quietly pondered, gathering his thoughts while itching the back of his head to ease the cold discomfort of his wet, heavy hair. She looked at him and then he knew. The girl had been expecting something less formless. She'd been expecting something definite she could fight. Something tangible. A villain that she could put a name and a face to.

"It's no easier for me to accept than it is for you. And whether or not you choose to believe me, the fact remains that things _will_ get dangerous from here on out, and you will have to be more careful."

She sighed, looking up at him bleakly. "No, both of us will."

Her eyes had begun to glaze over and she wavered a bit in her chair. The alcohol had taken effect.

"You should get some rest," he murmured.

He turned around and busied himself with the paltry amount of dishes he'd gathered in the sink. Hearing the sound of a chair scraping unevenly on the floor, he assumed the girl would take his advice and go to bed but when he turned around she was still there. Blinking slowly, she rested her head against the door frame and just stared at him. He could tell from the way she held herself that she was having a hard time holding herself up. Finishing what he was doing, he sighed and led her into the living room with the intention of guiding her to her own bed.

Instead of going where he ushered her, she struggled her way over to the pull out, unceremoniously flopping down on it and promptly closing her eyes. His eyebrows raised into his hairline. Evidently, not only could she not hold her liquor but she'd stolen his bed as well. But if she wanted to sleep on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress that was fine with him. Without seeing to her comfort any further, he made a beeline to the room she vacated.

"Don't… don't go," she slurred airily. "Don't want...don't wanna be 'lone."

Rubbing his temple, he turned back around and made a seat in the chair he'd thrown his sodden cloak on. This seemed to satisfy her as she smiled at him goofily as her eyes closed. Perturbed, he looked away from her, turning his gaze to a particularly interesting knot-hole in the wooden panels covering the walls.

Several minutes later he got up to look for a book to read to occupy his time, only to have her wake and mumble incoherently at him. He didn't bother to reassure her with words, he just sat back down with some kind of outdoor living magazine that had to be ten years or more out of date. Too bored to complain about it, he aimlessly perused its contents, occasionally looking up to watch the girl struggle into sleep. Tugging the blanket around her, she tossed and turned, her small hand playing with a lock of hair idly. He watched as it twined around her fingers in increasingly slower circles, until it stopped altogether. Her breathing evened out and her entire body relaxed all at once.

Once he was quite sure she was asleep, he went over to the machine and watched the tape with the volume down, so as not to disturb the girl. After all, he couldn't have her wake up while he was watching it, considering her reaction to what was on it the last time. He scanned the video until his eye went dry, looking for something that might have set her off. It seemed to be nothing but hours and hours of Gast talking to various patients. After two hours of watching the video, he noticed that there seemed to be much more footage of Ifalna than any of his other patients. Another hour after that, his other patients seemed to slip by the wayside and the video focused completely on her and only her.

Her face filled the screen, looking much younger than she had when he'd met her, smiling and laughing coyly as she answered whatever questions posed to her. Sometimes her face would darken for a moment and she'd become serious. Having the volume turned down, he couldn't hear much but he got the general idea that he was asking her about the Crisis...the thing that had paraded itself as his mother.

There were an endless number of sessions like this. So many that it got to be very tedious and he almost considered fast forwarding through them. Until he noticed the gradual, subtle change from session to session. Professor Gast himself had started to appear more and more frequently in the video with Ifalna. It was a peculiarity that didn't go unnoticed. The video became less like a cut and dry documentation of scientific research and more like treasured personal recordings.

An image of Gast and Ifalna as they frolicked in front of the camera came up. Both of them looked to be very much in love. The Professor kissed Ifalna on the cheek, rubbing her _obviously_ pregnant stomach tenderly. Sephiroth's eyes widened minutely and he took a small step away from the consol as a horrible realization washed over him. Trembling slightly, he ran a hand through his hair as the rest of the tape played.

He could just barely hear the professor asking his wife a question, his voice rendered dull and tinny by the machine's mechanics.

"_What should we name her?_"

Ifalna smiled, her face washed out and glowing eerily on the old monitor.

"_Aeris_..."

His thoughts, if acknowledged, might have crushed him. So he closed his eyes and pushed it away, and fast-forwarded through the rest of the tape only stopping near the end which he had to go back and rewind to see.

And those last few images were the worst.

He watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as shaky images of Ifalna and her daughter, no more than two years old, came into focus. Gast must have been holding the camera himself to make what amounted to home movies of his daughter and his wife. They looked so happy. A look of worry suddenly crossed Ifalna's face and she turned. The camera work became worse as Gast stood and walked forward. He set the camera down and from the limited vantage point Sephiroth could make out the front door and Gast's legs and upper torso.

Someone pushed him back, there was a scuffle and he could plainly detect the brilliant burst of a shotgun blast. Gast fell and then there was utter chaos as several heavily armed Shinra guards entered the room. The camera was knocked over, and the video went black for a moment before the screen came back up. In the background he could see several groggy guards pull themselves up off the floor. And in the foreground was a hand. Gast's hand... and a widening pool of blood that bumped up against the camera's lens. The last image in the video was of an approaching guard and his foot as he crushed the recorder. Then all was static.

He coolly turned the machine off and pondering for a moment he glanced at the girl.

_So... that was it_...

She'd found her father and lost him all in one moment. Strangely enough, he understood exactly how she felt. He pushed the eject button and grabbed the disk as it popped out. Something like this shouldn't just be laying around for anyone to watch. It belonged to her... and with that thought, he took it to her room and carefully placed it in her pack.

Sephiroth turned his head and stared out the window. Beyond the glass, dawn was breaking and for just a moment, a single moment...it was like he was seeing the sun rising for the first time in his life.

* * *


	17. You Part the Waters

_"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will."_

--Mohandas Gandhi

Quietly, the sun peeked over the horizon, spilling its light across the shadowed landscape like rose champagne tipped onto fine, dark velvet. It was cold out and the sky was clear. Not a single cloud in the sky. He looked up, wishing he could count the stars behind the dawn's fine curtain. The air was getting warmer, spring was coming. He could see it in the naked branches of the trees as they stretched upward – new growth yearning to burst free and unfurl its bright green leaves, so well hidden behind the dull, grayish buds that protected them from winter cold. Despite all their wanting, it would be at least another few weeks before those buds would see the light of day. The wind was brisk, and though the air had warmed there was still crispness there held firmly in place by winter's iron fist.

His breath came in shallow gasps, puffing out in front of him softly once it hit the cold air. He had just finished a kata, one of the more difficult he knew. Cracking his neck, he sheathed his sword and found a log to sit down on so he could rest, think and maybe watch dawn crest into day. He yawned and itched his shoulder, all the while trying very hard not to notice how uncomfortable he was. Thanks to the already vigorous nature of that particular kata and the fact that he was doing it in five inches of packed snow, there was now a light sheen of sweat all over his body. It dampened his clothes, which stuck with unforgiving coldness against his skin.

Blocking it all out, he closed his eyes and focused his mind. _She_ would be here soon, and once she was there would be precious little time for him to think. A conundrum if there ever was one. All this time, he had tried his best NOT to over-think things, but lately he'd done far more than his share. Pushing everything aside to simplify the over-complex situation he found himself in had been a great help, however, the situation had irrevocably changed. So, he spent what little free time he had ruminating on the whys and wherefores of this "mission" he was on, because the pieces just didn't fit.

Nothing made sense...

Opening his palm, he looked down at the black materia. It should have glinted in the sunlight like any other materia, but it didn't; instead, it sucked all light into it, turning its surface a dull, muted black. It was a void, a vacuum. A dead thing. He set the materia in his hand like a child holds a marble, rolling it forward as if to flick it into a playground circle. If he listened really hard, he could almost hear the satisfying tack of marbles hitting against each other. The memory was magnificent.

To his thinking, it seemed counterproductive to bring back a force of virulent destruction like the black materia. The thing was a menace, even in the hands of someone supposedly so pure and righteous, it had seemed to twist her to its own purpose if only for a moment.

Perhaps there was a reason for bringing it back and giving it to him, and he was just too dull to see (no matter how unlikely _that_ seemed.) Perhaps not. Perhaps they were just sadistic bastards up there, playing him for a fool. He hoped they were having a good laugh over it if that were the case... In any event, it was clearly beyond his capability to fathom their decision; if it was theirs at all, a fact which he now firmly doubted.

The materia was restless. He could feel it moving, struggling – for what, he didn't want to imagine, and even though he was the true master of the thing, he could feel the bite of its darkness against his flesh. Worse, he could feel the gentle stirrings of something deep and hidden within himself which had been awakened the moment he'd set foot into the black materia's temple.

Ifalna had said that he'd been purged of most of Jenova's influence. Keyword: _most_. There was still enough left to hear the call. He hadn't expected he would. Jenova was dead, therefore the call to reunion... well, there shouldn't _be_ one. Yet he could feel it, and it terrified him.

It meant that a piece of Jenova, or something very much like her, still existed. A powerful piece, if one judged by the strength of the call alone. He hadn't told the flower girl. He should have, but he didn't. Her trust in him was shaky, but it was there and better than nothing. He wouldn't – no he _couldn't_ sacrifice what they'd built so far, not if they wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. And sooner was far better than later, especially if he could feel the call.

Sighing deeply, he rested his forearms on his knees, carefully rolling the black materia from palm to palm. It was an oddly hypnotizing activity. He rolled it around in one palm and over the back of his hand; a trick he'd taught himself a long time ago. And as he rolled it up and over his hand again, balancing it between two fingers before rolling it over to the other hand, he could reflect on only one thing – how much he hated touching it.

Holding it with his bare hand was repulsive, and even when he had gloves on he found the sensation it brought unbearable, yet he found it hard to just put it away and forget about it. It was like poking at a sore tooth...

He stopped toying with the materia. His fingers closed around it, and he quietly put it in his pocket. Looking out at the sunrise, he found it hard to shake off the cold, heavy feeling of the materia from the tips of his fingers. It lingered... like a memory.

When he held it, he sometimes thought back to a time in his early youth when he had found one of the lab mice dead. He must have only been five or six, but he could still clearly remember it – he'd taken to sneaking food to the mice in the lab after all the scientists and assistants left for the day. At the time, Hojo had given him free reign with the proviso that he didn't touch or disturb anything. Clearly, he'd neglected to follow the rules, but he hadn't been able to help it. He considered those mice kindred spirits; plus, he'd liked the way they'd smooth their little whiskers after they ate.

Each mouse had a number, just like he had. They all had their own little cages, just like him. But unlike him, they didn't have any names. It had bothered him. _He_ had a name, and he was just the same as them: Trapped.

The one he'd found dead that night he'd named Horatio, after a character in a book he'd read. Horatio had a small black speck underneath his nose that looked like a moustache that had grown wrong. It had made him laugh whenever he fed Horatio, because the mark moved so funny when he ate. Even now, he smiled mutely at the memory... Horatio had been his favorite. He'd been shocked to find him stiff and cold, lying on his back with all four paws up.

Even so young, he knew the mouse's fate. The lab assistants would come in the morning, find Horatio dead, and then they'd eagerly dissect him – to find out what went wrong, mind you. His organs would be preserved and cut up into little slides for future viewing.

He finally understood why the lab assistant had laughed at him when he asked why they didn't name them. Still, the thought of them doing that to Horatio made him uncomfortable. So he'd stolen the little mouse's body and buried him in the flower bed near the barracks where his own little cage was located. He'd gotten the beating of his life for doing that... but the flowers under his window had never grown more beautifully.

Touching the materia had reminded him of the lonely journey to his barracks... it reminded him of the way little Horatio felt in his hands as he carried him: cold, dead, and so very heavy for such a tiny thing.

The wind gusted cool air across his fevered brow, and he looked up, trying to find any kind of light in the sunrise he could hold onto. She'd be with him soon. So he sought to find a bit of peace before having to "entertain" the flower-girl.

Since she'd started shadowing him and disrupting his alone time, he had decided that they both might make use of that time more productively. His first thought had been to attempt to teach her how to fight – this had been a _seemingly_ good idea, until he quickly realized she had no aptitude for it. Additionally, he wasn't all that familiar with a staff, her weapon of choice. Still, he strove to tutor her. He knew a few basic routines that he'd thought she'd have no trouble with, but during their sessions together she proved to be impatient and difficult, as usual. After arguing with him, complaining that Strife had told her differently and repeatedly insisting that he wasn't teaching her right, he'd given up and stormed off.

That night he'd come home and things between them had been as tense as it had in the beginning, until she apologized and offered to start again the next morning with a better attitude. He'd waved her off and told her there were no hard feelings. Not accustomed to softening blows, he had flatly informed her that her talents obviously lay elsewhere and that further instruction in the martial arts would be unnecessary and futile. Instead, he felt she should focus on her materia skills – she was, after all, naturally good at it.

She took it strangely well.

Three days later, the incident was entirely forgotten and life had gone on like normal. He had been out behind the house with the chocobo, leading the bird around a bit to give her some exercise. Earlier, he'd groomed it and had been considering taking her out for a quick ride, but the day turned a bit too cold and windy for it. So he was forced to choose this less vigorous workout for the bird. It was then that his little shadow made herself known.

"You're very good with him."

The bird was startled by her voice and he had to jerk the lead a bit to get it back in line. "Her," he murmured, patting the chocobo's neck absently.

"Huh?"

"The bird's female," he clarified.

"Oh," she hummed. Contemplating something for a beat, she spoke up again, "how didja know?"

"See all that banding?" he said, pointing out the mottled gray-black splotches on her plumage. "Males don't have that. – only females are this darkly banded. _That's_ how I knew."

Aeris hummed her response, not put off by the curtness of his reply. She'd gotten used to it over the weeks; especially after all that happened... she was getting to believe that being rude was his way of dealing with things, just like being petulant and argumentative was her method.

The slight crunch of packed snow and cold gravel signaled the girl had moved from her spot. He looked back and saw her tentatively walking forward. Her apprehension was clear.

"I've never seen a white chocobo before..."

"They're common in this part of the world."

"To blend in with the snow, I bet." She paused for a beat or two. "Makes sense. How do you know so much about chocobos?"

"I've made it a point to study this world. Being that chocobos are a part of it..." He gave her a backwards glance that wasn't _entirely _condescending.

"Ah. Then how did you learn to ride one? Can't learn _that_ from just studying," she pointed out, smirking in a prettily triumphant manner.

"In military school," he replied tersely.

"Chocobos make me nervous."

"So I've noticed."

She blushed and then went quiet for ten blissful minutes. "Teach me how to ride."

Sephiroth shrugged and turned away, intent on ignoring her – until he realized that her request wasn't all _that_ unreasonable. But only a single question remained: could she be taught? He could hear her huff indignantly behind him as he led the chocobo away. Glancing back, he asked indifferently: "Are you coming or not?"

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. She scrambled to catch up to him, until he instructed her otherwise. Chocobo were very nervous creatures and easily spooked.

"The way to a chocobo's heart is through its stomach," he explained, shoving a single carob nut into her hand.

Then he had her approach it slowly, holding the nut out in her flattened palm. She had been shaking so hard the nut fell out of her hand several times, forcing her to pause to pick it up. And once she was in front of the bird, she was so tense that it wouldn't matter what she did, the chocobo wouldn't come near her because it sensed her fear.

"Relax," he commanded. She shot him a dirty look, of all the impossible things to demand – relaxing when one felt least like relaxing. He smirked, and pointed happily to her hand. While she'd been glaring at him, the chocobo had sensed the decrease in tension and had been tempted by the nut, plucking it from her hand. She turned and gazed in astonishment at her now empty palm and the chocobo that was currently crunching the nut she'd so helpfully proffered. "Try another one," he said, slipping another nut in her other hand.

She smiled, encouraged by her success, and held the nut out. Though she still shook, it was more from breathless excitement than fear. She giggled when the chocobo took it from her palm a second time.

"It tickles," she commented, her voice full of sunshine as she dug into the feedbag and retrieved another nut for the chocobo. She didn't go as fast as the bird would have liked and it warked insistently, stamping a foot to punctuate its ire. The flower girl jumped a little, but remained mostly unfazed. Holding out the nut, she chided the bird, calling it greedy, despite her obvious delight when it once again ate from her hand. When she reached for the bag again, he closed it.

"Not too many." She looked disappointed at his admonishment. "It'll make her sick. Why don't you try petting her now?"

"But..." she trailed off; clearly worried about not having any more treats to give the bird. Treats equaled a calm bird and a calm bird equaled a calm Aeris, therefore no treats equaled anarchy, and, truth be told, she wasn't a fan of anarchy. And while she was so busy worrying, the bird had decided that it was being ignored for entirely too long.

It stepped closer to the new human, sniffing it delicately before bumping its head against her hand again and warking. Aeris squeaked a bit as the bird nudged her midsection but quickly calmed once she realized it was just looking for more treats. She giggled, tentatively patting the chocobo's neck. The bird didn't seem to mind, in fact, it seemed to enjoy the attention. It stopped searching for nuts and leaned in, allowing Aeris to lightly stroke her head. Cooing softly, the bird had decided it liked the new human. As for Aeris... she grinned widely, cheeks flushed from the cold and the sheer joy she found in the moment. She turned that grin back on her companion, real delight shining in her eyes when looking at him for the first time.

The next day he began to teach her how to ride. It wasn't easy, but it was a damn sight less difficult than teaching her martial arts. Her very first lesson went smoothly, though she was nervous. With each successive lesson, she consistently improved. He attributed it to the fact that she listened closely and took direction far better than she had when he'd attempted to instruct her in the use of her staff. Sephiroth wasn't sure, but he guessed that this wasn't a skill Strife had taught her and therefore he didn't have to struggle against ingrained bad habits she held onto due to sentimentality.

Attempting to clear his mind once more, he heard a twig snap coming from behind him and the distinctive thump of a chocobo's feet on the packed snow. She was here. He opened his eyes and stood, turning around just slightly to watch her exit the deep woods behind.

She smiled at him and jumped off the bird, leading it a bit away from them, towards a patch of forest where the bird could graze. And as she was walking back, she held up a package. "I brought breakfast," she said cheerily.

They ate quietly on a downed tree just about five feet from the chocobo. She'd brought a variety of fruits, sausages and a small loaf of brioche, cleverly decorated with a raspberry flavored glaze. He enjoyed the fruit, especially the grapes she'd brought. The sausage was _really_ appreciated, especially the way she prepared it – steaming it just enough to cook, but not so much that it lost its flavor. The brioche turned out to be a bit of a trial. He'd never had it before and therefore was quite stumped upon first approach. It was a messy food and he wasn't all that fond of messy foods. Aeris took great delight in it, eating it with her bare fingers. He watched with a small bit of disgust as she sucked the festive glaze off her fingers. There was nothing worse in this world than getting your fingers dirty, at least by his estimation. He decided to attack the brioche with his fork, and he had to admit it was quite good, even though the flower-girl had laughed at him for eating it that way.

"You're supposed to eat that with your fingers," she commented lightly, a sparkle in her eyes as she stifled a peal of laughter.

He gave her a dirty look and continued to eat his brioche the way he felt was right and proper. And she laughed again when he'd smeared a bit of the glaze on his cheek. Without even thinking about it, she leaned over and wiped it off with a finger, sticking it into her mouth absently. To her it was an innocent gesture, devoid of any ulterior meaning, but for him – he had been so startled by it that he'd frozen for a moment or two and just like that, he brushed it away, resolving not to assign any meaning to it but his heart beat betrayed him, it jack-hammered in his chest like the wings of a bird beating against its cage.

She had violated his territorial bubble.

Once his heart regained its normal rhythm as he polished off the last bit of brioche, he could say he was quite satisfied, never having had anyone made food for him much less food that tasted quite that good. Pondering on it a moment, he could safely say that her cooking was one of the only things he could genuinely say he liked about her, despite her annoying habit of violating his personal space (though to be fair, it was only a habit she'd recently acquired.)

After breakfast, she chatted with him a bit and he endeavored to answer in as few words as possible. The less he said, the better – he'd found that if he didn't speak quite as much, he was less likely to get himself into trouble with her. They cleaned up, retrieved the chocobo, and left the little clearing: her riding the chocobo, him walking beside it -- as they had almost every morning for the last week and a half.

Aeris stopped abruptly, gazing down at him with a searching look on her face. "Can I show you something?"

He looked to the left, looked to the right, and then looked straight at her, eyebrows lifting into his hair. He was sorely tempted to tell her it depended on what she wanted to show. She took offense at his wariness, mumbling huffily as she goaded the chocobo back into a light trot: "I didn't want to show you anyway."

Sighing, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "What did you want to show me?"

She turned and glared petulantly at him. Part of her really didn't want to show him, but most of her did, and she was loath to deny what most of her wanted. Guiding the chocobo back to him, she scooted up a bit and patted the saddle behind her. "Get on."

There was a stilted nervousness behind that pat. Sharing the back of the chocobo with him before had been hard, having to hold onto him and all, but with things in reverse she would enter a whole new world of uncomfortable weirdness. He wasn't particularly pleased by the thought of being that close to her either, but if it was what she wanted... Strengthening his resolve, he swung up behind her, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist. She stiffened and then relaxed a bit, though he could still feel the tension coiling in every muscle.

She let out a shaky sigh after a second or two of hesitation. "Hang on," she commanded and then she encouraged the bird into a flat out run.

The suddenness of it sent him lurching back, and he actually had to grab her around the waist a bit tighter, lest he fall off. This time, she didn't tense as she was far too absorbed in her riding. She urged the bird on gleefully, while Sephiroth hung onto her as if his life depended on it.

Eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets, he couldn't believe her audacity. They hadn't progressed this far in her lessons yet – galloping was usually something handled once the rider-in-training had a bit more experience. His riding instructor had him just walking the bird and doing groundwork with it for nearly a year. Then again, he had struggled with it in the beginning because the birds tended to spook when he was near. Aeris had little problem with it, other than her own irrational fear. Whatever the case, the girl had been practicing behind his back at some point...

The thought was truncated as he was hit firmly in the face by a low hanging branch. It clawed at his flesh and hair as they passed. He pulled away instinctively, scooting in closer to the flower girl – jostling her. She looked back at him, noticing the thin red welts on his face before turning back to guide the chocobo.

"Watch your head," she called over her shoulder as she guided the bird between trees that were far too close together for his liking.

He pressed himself closer to her and kept his head low, scowling at the side of her face like he could burn a hole in it. Despite his scrutiny, she drove the bird onward as if she had a death wish – for him or for herself, he wasn't sure – thundering through the forest recklessly as if the hounds of hell were at her back. For his part, he was beginning to think she might be aiming for every low hanging branch in the forest, because it certainly felt like he'd hit every one. By the time her wild ride had ended, his hair was composed of fifty percent branches and leaves -- that he would be spending the next few hours laboriously removing.

She jumped off the chocobo and was nearly breathless with excitement. Her eyes glowed and her cheeks were a vibrant pink. It was nearing midday now, and the sun cut clean and sharp against the bright blue sky – and it was a perfect spring sky, so full of promises. The sun hit her just right, catching her hair as floated airily around her and for an instant she looked like the blazing fire that ignited that sky. _She was heaven as it met earth_, something inside whispered and within that thought he realized that he had never seen her so alive – not since the day he'd killed her, ironically enough. The thought was so awful and so wrong he nearly laughed, managing to hold himself back by the smallest margin. If he'd laughed, he would have to explain himself and that just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. In fact, he was sure that line of thought would effectively end the tentative truce he had with the flower-girl, if she didn't annihilate him first.

Fingers were snapping in front of his face – ah, he drifted off again. Focusing on the world around him, he glanced at Aeris, noting the look of bemused displeasure on her face.

"Space trucking?" He nodded and she accepted that explanation without further comment, plunging right into a subject that really interested her. "So, how'd I do?"

The expectant way she was looking at him, all google-y eyed and hopeful, unnerved him. He knew what he wanted to say and it was scathing and sarcastic, mostly emphasizing the crisscrossing welts on his face that made him something of a walking, talking roadmap, but that look on her face...

"You did great," he replied with as much enthusiasm he could muster, he almost even smiled.

Having gotten used to his taciturn responses the near smile was just as good as a parade down the center of town. She grinned and turned away to take the chocobo back into its makeshift stable to feed it and give it a good rub down. As she walked away, she called to him over her shoulder, knowing he was already heading inside. "As soon as I'm finished here, I'll have lunch ready. It'll be about an hour, think you can wait?"

He grunted out an affirmative and walked inside, wishing he'd been a little more polite in his acceptance when she mentioned what they'd be having. One bath later, he was feeling quite a bit more human and certainly less irritated about having his face mauled by an entire forest full of trees, and from the smell in the kitchen, he could anticipate, happily, the prospect of chicken parmesan in his future.

* * *

_Things had been going rather well lately_, Aeris thought as she lazily lifted a forkful of chicken parmesan to her lips before stuffing it into her mouth in a unladylike fashion. She noted absently that she might have outdone herself this time. Looking over at her companion, who had devoured the chicken in seconds flat and had proceeded to use one of his pieces of garlic bread to sop up what was left, she was quite certain of her success. _Yes, things were going very well_, she assured herself, until she gazed back over at him to find that he was already gazing at her with a look that was far too near expectation.

He looked down, sopping up the last bit of marinara sauce. "So, had any visions lately?" he asked casually.

It was no secret that he wanted to leave. She did too, but things weren't so simple. Aeris had tried a hundred times in her head to find a way to explain this to him without revealing too much, and had come up empty. Her answer had always been a sullen, embarrassed 'no', usually muttered under her breath before quickly vacating whatever room she was in. Sighing heavily, she suddenly didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"No," she murmured with predictable awkwardness, twisting her fork in what remained of her noodles to distract herself.

"Well, that_ is_ unfortunate."

"Yeah, sorry." It was a lame response, she knew it – but what else could she say?

He got up and put away his dishes. She tried her best to eat the rest of her dinner. After all, it'd be a shame to waste it. He made some post dinner tea, and took away her dishes as it was obvious she wasn't really eating because she was hungry. Pouring her a cupful, he sat back down and stared at her from over his cup. Timidly, she took a sip. The tea was very bitter. _Oolong_. She hated Oolong tea. Taking another hesitant sip, she tried unsuccessfully to hide a grimace.

"Tea too strong for you?"

"A little..." She licked her lips, thumbing the handle of her cup as she looked over at him. His eyes had that calculative glint in them. Oh, she hated that glint, the only thing worse than that glint was the knowledge that this was no casual conversation.

"We need to talk."

If she thought it'd do any good, she would have smacked her head in sheer frustration. He was going to interrogate her about the incident at Gaia's Cliff as if they hadn't gone over it a hundred different times. She set her tea cup down and massaged her brow, hoping to rid herself of the rising irritation she felt because she really didn't feel like losing her temper over this – because things had been going so damn well.

Hoping against hope, she swallowed her aggravation and gazed up at him, her expression disaffected. "About?"

He set his cup down and calmly leaned forward, steepling his fingers like a businessman closing an important deal. "You know."

Aeris rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, blowing her bangs as she settled back in her chair. _Here we go_. This was where the good times were going to end. She had been avoiding any talk about the incident – for a long time she had just pretended nothing had happened. Logically, she knew that bottling up what happened that night wasn't healthy, but she just didn't feel comfortable spilling her guts to her murderer – again. She knew he wanted to talk about it. But what was there to say? To him, anyway. Half the reason it'd happened had been his fault...

The pain of a life cut short, seeing her father's death so lovingly captured on camera, knowing that she couldn't turn to the people she loved and trusted – it had been too much. The black materia had somehow called all of that darkness out of her, until nothing was left but a yawning chasm of hopeless, bleak despair. That feeling – it was the most horrible empty thing she had ever experienced. It hollowed you out... and she had briefly wondered if he had felt it too and if he _had_...

But that was neither here nor there. She couldn't discuss what she felt, much less how or why it happened. Not with him. Not now, not EVER. Even if he might have understood her better than anyone in the world, because there were just some things she had to keep for herself – or for those she believed _deserved_ to know.

"You know I won't discuss it," she said sharply, crossing her legs so violently that she banged her knee on the table. The jangling sound of shaking teacups unnerved her, and she resisted the urge to stop her teacup's epileptic dance just as much as she resisted the urge to rub her smarting knee.

For a moment, she could see a fire in his eyes, the same fire that always preceded a nasty fight. But instead of blooming into a full blown blaze of righteous anger, it died a quick death.

"Fine." The tone of his voice was apathetic, almost resigned in a way. He got up without another word and dumped his tea into the sink before walking away.

Aeris gaped at the empty doorway for a moment, stunned silent by his anticlimactic retreat. She huffed indignantly. He never backed away from a fight in the short time she'd known him. What the hell was he playing at? This was some kind of passive-aggressive reverse psychology thing, it had to be. Just give up and leave, knowing she'd come charging in there to tell him everything. Well, it wasn't going to work.

At all.

Dumping her tea in the sink, she set her cup down firmly, but gently, eyes staring out into space, seemingly glaring at the perfectly beautiful scenery outside.

Nope, it SO wasn't working.

What right did he have to expect answers out of her? She didn't know why it happened anymore than he did. There'd be no point in recounting what had led up to that moment on the cliffs. No point at all, except to go over memories best forgotten.

A small, very annoying voice spoke up then: _What if, by finding out what caused this, you could figure out why the black materia was brought back? _

_But who cared._.. except... except the black materia had served its purpose. The only reason the white had been brought back was to open that door. A sudden, unwelcome realization occurred then. Yes, it had been reformed to open the door, but it should have been reconstituted at half power as it only had to last long enough to open the gateway to Eden's temple. She had known this in the back of her mind and had found it a bit strange that the white materia hadn't disappeared after they'd used it. Surely, it was odd, but it hadn't rung any alarm bells then, because, well, she really could use a powerful relic infused with white magic.

God, she should have known then. If the white materia had been brought back at full power, then the black materia had to be brought back as well – because neither could exist in their pure forms without the other.

"Damn." She muttered a few more invectives as she walked through that empty doorway for what she was about to do. This was just the stupidest idea ever. That was what she was thinking as she dug through her pack for her journal. Yes, she'd realized that swallowing her emotions was a bad thing, and having no one to talk to she wrote it all down instead.

Finding it, she pulled it out and held it to her chest, scarcely believing she was actually going to go ahead with this. But she just couldn't talk to him about it. She just couldn't. This was the only way.

Aeris stood in front of him determinedly, journal pressed to her bosom tightly as if afraid it might jump from her arms like a startled cat. He was reading the paper and doing quite a good job of ignoring her. It was really very irritating.

"May I help you?" he queried blandly, turning another page.

_Very_ irritating.

With a scowl, she thought about throwing the damned journal right through his paper, but decided against it. Thumbing through the pages, she found where she needed to be and holding place with her fingers, she shoved it in front of his nose.

"Read from here on."

She waited until he took it, fighting her temper when he gave her an odd look. But he took the damned thing and he read it. That's all she cared about.

"Is this true?" he asked, gesturing with the journal, his thumb holding his place.

Her first inclination was to be annoyed with him and she went with it, retorting haughtily: "I'm not in the habit of writing fiction and I wouldn't have shown it to you if I was."

Evidently, her tart reply didn't faze him. She could see the gears in his head working. The clockwork mechanisms whirred and hummed to life, servos twisting and turning his face into worry. After a moment, he looked her straight in the eyes. "Then we're in trouble."

The certainty in his voice was disconcerting and she leaned forward. "What do you mean by that?"

Sephiroth pondered for a second or two, trying to figure how best to lay out the problem to her. The girl wasn't much for facts and figures, and he didn't quite like dumbing down what needed to be said to suit her. Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he gazed down at the journal. Inspiration came in that moment and he began to flip through the pages until he found what he wanted. "Read what you wrote here," he instructed, pointing out the passage and holding it out for her.

Cautiously, she lifted it from his grasp and began to read.

"_...it was like something pulling me – as if a rope had been attached somewhere inside. Or maybe it was more like a magnet... Oh, I don't know how to explain it but... but... I felt like I had to go and see – see what it wanted me to see. I was compelled, I think..._"

Snapping her journal closed, she frowned and gazed at him with confused exasperation. "I don't understand, why is this important exactly?"

He took a deep steadying breath. "It's important because what you described shouldn't have happened. Materia can't compel _anyone_ to do _anything_ on its own."

"But the black materia—"

"No, it can't. NO materia could do that. It needs a catalyst to work; someone or something _has_ to activate it. What you described is, in all ways, impossible, unless, someone or something activated it remotely." He paused for a moment to let it sink it. "So, you see why we might have a problem."

"But activating materia remotely – that's just... there's _no_ way. You'd have to be super powerful to do something like that!" she exclaimed, clearly worried.

"_Exactly_."

There were questions just under the surface of her skin, he could see it. He let out another long suffering sigh and began to explain most everything he'd been thinking about lately.

The home they were in had belonged to a professor, she knew this. What she didn't know was that he'd known the professor in question, personally. He pretended that he didn't know that kind Professor Gast was her father. That'd just get them off track. Instead, he began to talk about his library. There wasn't much of it left. All the important research had no doubt been moved to a secure location or destroyed outright by Shinra. But there had been several volumes left that contained pertinent information, allowing him to do some rudimentary research into materia theory.

It was a subject she detested, because she felt its approach was too clinical, too rational to be allowed. Materia came from the planet – from the lifestream – it was a wild thing; untamable and free. To try and pin down the very essence of life was a sacrilege and it'd only lead to the wrong kind of conclusion. Look at the mistake they'd made with Jenova; it was a classic example of science taking on more that it should have. Still, she listened to him, although she didn't always understand what he said she managed to glean enough to paint a rough sketch in her mind.

Really, it all boiled down to one thing: The black materia hadn't been designed to do what it did. Someone or something had hacked into its power and had used it in a way that was never intended, perverting and subverting the purpose of an already dangerous piece of materia into a far more lethal weapon. Moreover, he suggested that it was _because _the black materia had been brought back that the white had gained its full power, rather than the other way around as she had believed.

She had to admit, it made a scary kind of sense.

There was very little to say after that. She went to go take a bath and he sat back and read his paper, and that was that. And once she was in the quiet confines of the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, she was able to let go of the shuddering sigh she'd been holding the entire time. It wasn't just because she was worried about what they'd spoken about. She'd almost told him why she hadn't had any visions.

* * *

Aeris had shut off her connection to the planet. She had been born into this world for the second time the same as she'd left it: half-cetra, half human. As such, she had always been limited in power, and this task she'd been appointed with required quite a bit more than she was used to. The cries of the planet, once soft and soothing, were so thunderous that she got migraines during the day that were bad enough that she could barely function, and during the night, well, it'd become impossible to sleep. So, she shut the planet's song out, and, in doing that, she severed the only connection she had to the visions.

Aeris turned away from her reflection and started her bath. Soon the air was filled with pleasant humidity, fogging the mirror and soothing her senses. She tested the water before standing, carefully stripping down to her skivvies. Simultaneously, and without even thinking about it, she opened her connection to the planet, experimentally prodding the water filling her mind. The planet's song was as large and bright as she remembered it, but this time she let it in as a small trickle. Gradually increasing the flow, she let it fill her, and was pleased to find that it wasn't as overwhelming as it had been before.

Mentally congratulating herself, she wasn't prepared for the connection to surge, and like a hose with a kink in one end the images came forth violently as it was straightened and the visions were allowed to flow. The pain was too much, and she half gasped, half shrieked as she fell back, flailing her arms wildly as if trying to put out a fire. Stumbling blindly, she put a hand through the mirror accidentally. This time, she screamed. The sound was horrific. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing and holding her head, hand bleeding. The images never stopped once.

_Mountains. _

_Wilderness._

_Ocean. Miles and miles of ocean. Flying past like a film fast-forwarded. _

She was vaguely aware of the coldness of the floor. It bit into her skin.

_An altar that stood under the moon, placid water surrounding it._

Tears were hot and sticky against her cheeks, and it created a film over everything she saw in between the burning images from the lifestream. Her arm hurt.

_A dragon, large and blue emerging from the sea. She watched the water drip off it, individual droplets running over its shimmering scaled hide. It hovered in midair – and it watched and waited, large golden eyes blinking slowly and in irregular rhythm –moving sinuously through the clouds, in one clawed hand it held a pearl while the other beckoned her._

From the other side of the door she could hear someone yelling, and shortly thereafter, that same someone began to pound on the door – as if to break it in. But she couldn't be sure. It sounded very distant and dull, like it came from very far away.

_A golden pagoda, glinting in the sun – a girl stood on top of it as if she owned it, some kind of weapon in hand_.

Someone picked her up, and she lay limply in his arms. The visions had started to fade and she could just barely see his face. Disoriented, she vaguely remembered that he normally was quite implacable, but he seemed very worried now. He was mouthing words she couldn't understand, her brain hurt too much to comprehend anything beyond needing sleep. Eyes fluttering, she placed her bleeding hand on his forearm and whispered one word before passing out.

"Wutai..."

She woke up hours later sore, disoriented and bleary eyed.

"How long?" she croaked.

"Four hours."

"Mmm... what time is it?"

"Late."

Aeris grunted, thinking that she really needed to get up and get some water, she was parched. With a groan, she tried to force herself up, but failed. In the wake of the visions, she'd been left with one helluva migraine – one so strong that it made even moving her head agonizing. Some pills were shoved into her hand followed shortly thereafter by a glass of water. She took them gratefully, laying back to wait for them to start to work. A half hour later the medication kicked in just enough for her to sit up a little. She could see him now that the light didn't hurt her eyes. Sephiroth was sitting – no, slumped would be a better word – in the easy chair near the couch, head cradled in one hand as he casually skimmed the contents of a rather large book (most probably taken from the library in the basement). He looked like a ridiculously tall school boy -- completely bored with his work and trying his best to skive off without the teacher noticing. She would have laughed had her head not hurt so damn much.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Aeris got the distinct impression that he didn't ask out of concern and that he didn't much care what the answer was one way or the other. Too tired to be irritated, she grunted an affirmative.

"Good," he replied flatly, without even looking up from his book. "So, does this kind of thing happen to you often?" For a minute she was confused, until he clarified the question. "Do you pass out like this every time?"

"No." Even though the pain killers had started to work, her head still felt like it was being compressed by boulders. She paused, rubbing her temples until the pain receded and she could think again, answering more truthfully: "Yes."

"Did you have visions before, in your first life?"

The question struck her as rather funny, and she laughed, immediately regretting it – it hurt like hell. "No, I didn't. Well, not like this, anyway." This got him to look up from his book. He titled his head to the side as he gazed at her, inviting an explanation wordlessly. "I mean to say, what I had before in my first life weren't _exactly_ visions. More like, a kind of intuition. I had these dreams... really vivid dreams. It wasn't that I saw the future exactly, but they just gave me the sense of things... like... like a gut feeling, only stronger."

"Primitive premonition," he suggested helpfully, "where you sense something is going to happen, rather than know it... if you believe in such nonsense."

She huffed quietly, knowing it was futile to mention that disbelief in such things at this point in the game was rather ridiculous, considering their situation. "These visions I'm having now – it's not at all like it was before. They come when I'm awake and the pain that comes after is unbelievable." She paused thoughtfully. "I passed out the last time, too. I think... I think it might be because I'm only half cetra – I don't think I was meant to carry the visions. Ever since we woke up here, I've felt..."

"...that things are different," he finished for her. "Wrong, somehow."

"Yeah." She paused again, sitting up and regarding him seriously. "Aren't you going to ask why I didn't tell you?"

"Hm. Didn't really occur to me," he replied absently, looking back down at his book and turning a page. "Should I have?"

"Well, I _did_ hide something from you. It's kind of expected that you be curious as to why."

He flipped an errant piece of hair over his shoulder and shrugged. "We all have our secrets."

"I suppose we do."

"So, we're going to Wutai?"

"Yes, how'd you know? I never told you..."

"Actually, you did, just before you passed out."

"Oh, well then..." Things got real quiet and she found herself staring down at her fingers. Her right hand had been bandaged. She barely remembered putting it through the mirror. "Did you do this?" she asked quietly, holding up her arm as if it were an exhibit in a trial.

"Mmhmm," he mumbled, not feeling the question dignified actual words.

"It's _really_ tight."

"I know. It's_ supposed_ to be – unless you _wanted_ to bleed to death."

"It was that bad?" she asked, a bit horrified.

Sephiroth glared at her from behind his bangs, clearly annoyed. "Obviously, it was. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bandaged it so tightly."

His terse reply effectively killed any further conversation for that night.

* * *

The days passed in a flurry of activity. Sephiroth had deemed it necessary to leave as soon as possible. He'd given them a week to prepare, which didn't seem like enough time to her. After all, there were loads of supplies they needed to gather and they hadn't much money. Aeris has spent it all on proper chocobo tack, including a pair of saddle bags.

When the mention of money was brought up, Sephiroth didn't seem overly concerned and she soon learned why. Over the last few weeks, he'd taken a job hunting monsters on the outlying ridges surrounding Icicle Village. Apparently, the village elders had instituted a bounty on some of the more dangerous wildlife. And annoyingly enough, there was no shortage of monsters to slay.

It was irritating for her, because she knew she had to depend on him already for so much, and she didn't want to add money to that list. And what made it worse was that it was blood money. Aeris firmly believed that all life was sacred, no matter how foul. Where the money came from wasn't the only thing that bothered her. She really wanted to contribute to the journey in a less mystical, more tangible way.

Though spring was well on its way there was still too much of winter left behind for there to be herbs to gather and she couldn't make tinctures, infusions or potions without them. She had a small supply of stuff she'd made before she died. It was still good, but there was only enough for their personal use. Buying herbs was out of the question; for one, they were too damned expensive. Secondly, most herbs found in stores were dried and that made them far less useful. Thirdly, even the small plants they sold in stores were loaded down with pesticides and fed with synthetic fertilizers, which made them even more useless than the dried herbs. It seemed that until they got to Wutai, she was stuck.

Aeris swallowed her pride and her bile, and tried not to think about it too hard.

Despite her reservations, things went off without a hitch, and, just as planned, they left at the end of the week. Their destination: Bone Village. Sephiroth had somehow managed to finagle one of the freighters docked there to ferry them and their chocobo to Wutai. Really, it was an amazing feat. Normally, the captains of those ships were pretty firm about not taking passengers, because they could lose their licenses. But somehow, he'd managed it – over the phone, no less. She wasn't quite sure how, and she'd been there.

He hadn't even had to resort to threats and intimidation (which was the tactic she'd assumed he would use to his benefit; after all, even over the phone Sephiroth was quite scary). Instead, he kept calmly insisting that they be allowed passage on their boat, going so far as to offer himself as a deckhand (at a severely reduced rate). He also had helpfully volunteered her services as a cook to sweeten the deal, which annoyed her a bit, but it didn't last long because the captain bit at the offer and gave them the date to meet at the docks.

They had four days to get there and they had already been traveling for two; riding for twelve hours before camping down for the night. On the morning of the third day, both of them had been puttering around camp, enjoying their own separate, mindless routines. Neither of them spoke much. They didn't really have to, having somehow worked out a system between them where words weren't entirely necessary. Aeris had taken care of breakfast and the cleanup afterwards. Sephiroth had attended to the chocobo before securing their belongings into its saddlebags. Everything was dull and quiet, as it had been for the last two days.

Sensing something the humans couldn't, the chocobo began to become agitated. It reared up, warbling in alarm and stomping its feet, its eyes bulging in fear. Sephiroth turned to Aeris. They looked at each other and then the chocobo, confusion written on both their faces. Glancing in each other's direction again, their eyes met briefly.

"What's wrong?"

Sephiroth didn't bother to answer; his gaze was abruptly focused to a point behind her shoulder. "Get on the chocobo," he murmured distantly, forcibly calming the bird with a violent jerk of its leads. His eyes never left that point behind her shoulder.

"Wha--" she began as Sephiroth charged forward, grabbing her by her upper arm and frog-walking her over to the bird wordlessly.

Clearly, she wasn't moving as fast as he wanted her to. Aeris didn't bother to fight him, even as he unceremoniously lifted her onto the chocobo's back. She was far too shocked to object. He leapt up behind her, unsheathing his sword in a single, fluid motion. "We have to leave, _now_," he commanded calmly. "You take the reigns."

"But—" And as she turned around she saw what it was that had spooked him and the chocobo.

Aeris wasn't quite sure how to describe what she saw, but she likened them to living, breathing shadows. They erupted like black flames from the darkness, stalking forward out of the forest predatorily. They were nightmarish, monstrous things. Bone and flesh fused to metal and whispering mist. She could see no eyes; they were hooded, hidden behind unknowable anatomy and their wide, gaping mouths. The skin around those mouths was pulled back into a rictus grin. Long ropes of ichorous drool oozed between their teeth, staining the ground and melting the snow, and she knew without a doubt that nothing would grow where their sputum had touched.

_Dead things. They were dead things_, she thought to herself.

And as they glided from tree to tree, coming ever closer, she could feel the blood drain from her face. Wide eyed, she kicked the bird into a flat-out run as those shapes in the forest surged forward, snarling as they trailed thick clouds of black dust behind them.

The wind shrieked in her ears, and for a few seconds, she'd given herself over to blind panic until she felt Sephiroth tighten his arm around her waist in warning. He leaned forward and whispered: "Watch the branches." She glanced behind which was a mistake. Not only did she almost run into a tree, but she could see those things had easily caught up to them. "EYES FORWARD!" he shouted in her ear. "Don't look back. Just keep riding."

And she did.

It didn't matter much, eventually the creatures caught up to them. Looking to her right, she could see one; its hideous, protruding snout bobbing forward and back as it ran. One beady eye rolled in its socket, glinting like an open sore as it locked its gaze on her. The thing snarled, more ichorous ooze dripping between its blackened teeth as it lunged. She shrieked, tugging the reigns so violently that the bird didn't so much turn as it lurched abruptly to the left.

Aeris tried to shake the leader as she weaved her way through the forest, making no effort to watch for low hanging branches. She heard Sephiroth curse behind her, and shortly thereafter she could vaguely hear the sound of a tree cracking as it tumbled to the ground. Looking back, she could see it as it fell inexorably, crushing several of their pursuers underneath its considerable girth. She smiled triumphantly, until she saw more creatures leaping over the obstacle as if it were nothing, treading on the bodies of their brethren without even breaking stride.

She was suddenly tugged to the left, the collar of her cloak pressing against her skin so tightly it cut off her breathing. A quick glance behind, and she could see that one of the creatures had her by the end of her cloak. It tugged again, this time with more force behind it. She was nearly unseated. The arm around her waist tightened, and she realized dimly that if it hadn't been for Sephiroth she'd probably have been dragged off and eaten by now, rather than just choking. Before she could even begin to fumble for the clasp, his sword swept out and liberated the creature's head from its neck and a great spray of blood and ash erupted from it as it tumbled back and back and back. Absently, she wiped the gore off her face with a shaky hand, digging her heels into the chocobo's side to make it go faster.

Aeris had never been a master strategist, but even she could tell they were being herded. To where, she really didn't want to know. The grim certainty that the enemy had decided to reveal themselves was shoved firmly into the back of her mind. She had just attempted a number of hairpin turns to get them pointed in the right direction, but she'd been cut off each time. Sephiroth was doing all he could to keep the things at bay and clear a path, but there were just too many. She had barely managed to keep the chocobo from panicking when she was halfway there herself. Her guardian, as if sensing her anxiety, pulled her back and leaned over her, protecting her with his body while beating the things back with the sword, though it didn't help much with the growing sense of helplessness as each avenue of escape she pursued was cut off.

Her anxiety was transformed to out and out fear as they came skidding into a clearing that ended in a cliff. She couldn't see over the edge, but she could see beyond it and she knew the drop had to be spectacular. Halting the bird's momentum, she tugged at its reigns, whirling around to face a sea of flaming red eyes. There was nothing for it now. It was either the cliff and certain death or the creatures and also certain death. Panic swelled, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the creatures stalked forward, pushing their prey closer and closer to the edge of the cliff; tongues lolling and jaws dripping wet with stinking, black ichor. Quaking in fear, she tried her best to master it, shrinking back against her companion to whisper: "What are we going to do?"

But there was no answer.

She repeated the question and still received no answer. Justifiably concerned, she turned around to look at him. His face had gone deathly pale and his were closed tightly, his lips drawn thin in pain. "What's wrong?"

"I... don't know," he gasped breathlessly, his eyes opening a crack as he began to tremble.

The creatures all around them suddenly and simultaneously let out a low, keening wail that was eerie in its intensity. The wail became a cry which became its own melody as voices were added and taken away. Aeris had never before been on a real battlefield, but it sounded to her ears like the death rattle of a million people, all screaming out at once. It caused gooseflesh to break out over her arms and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Something was coming.

The creatures went on and on, baying even louder as they began to rock back and forth in unison. Aeris's throat went completely dry. She made as if to turn back to her companion but was stopped cold when she heard him humming, mimicking, in his own human way, the pitch and tone of the creature's wailing. Aeris turned around, feeling as if her neck was made of stone, to look Sephiroth in the eye, hoping against all hope that she wouldn't see what she feared was there.

His face had gone completely still and was filled with shadows. Fat beads of sweat rolled off his forehead and down his long, aquiline nose. He was quaking epileptically, his lips moving in rapid, soundless conversation with voices only he could hear. His eyes, which had been closed, opened slowly, and she could see what had been hidden there. They glowed with cold, green light, shifting between rounded pupils that marked his humanity and the inhuman slits of those touched by Jenova. She swallowed thickly, despite the large knot in the back of her throat.

_What was going on?_ she thought numbly. _Cloud had reacted the same way when..._ and she left that little bit of pointless musing to hang on its own as she repeated her own interior mantra: _Jenova is dead. Jenova is dead. Jenova is dead... and because she is, this shouldn't be happening_. But he was reacting just like Cloud had... except this wasn't Cloud. And then she gazed out at the creatures as if the answers lay there.

They'd gone eerily quiet. Worse than that, every last one of them had their eyes trained on her and not one moved as they stared and stared and stared... And slowly they parted for some unseen_ thing_ that had lay in wait with them the entire time. She could feel the pressure of its presence, and it reminded her so acutely of the few times she'd faced Jenova that she couldn't help but tremble in fear.

"Oh, god..." she whispered breathily, feeling tears gather at the edges of her vision.

From formless mist it came, rolling, twisting and, finally, walking from darkness. Its arrival drove the creatures into a foaming frenzy. They paced, snarling, eyes locked on their prey, just waiting for their master to sic. And as that mist took form, Aeris knew it wasn't Jenova, it was something very much like her – only much, much worse.

The 'It' wore the skin of a woman. She was horrifyingly beautiful, far too terrible and strange to look upon. A perfect nightmare made of flesh and bone. Bloodless skin was drawn tight over fine boned features, stretched across its skull as if stitched there by a taxidermist's needle. Its eyes were at times too close together or too far apart, a mouth that was far too wide, a nose too sharp and long – her features shifted and twisted as if trying to escape her, tortured by their continued presence on her face.

Blood red lips stretching into a grim, mirthless smile, her eyes, bead bright sores burrowed into her skull, penetrated Aeris and made it hard for her to breathe, as if her very gaze stole the breath from her lungs. Panting, Aeris inhaled and exhaled desperately, gulping in stale, acrid air that smelled like dry death.

She realized, in that moment when it was far too late, how much trouble she was really in when she tried to slip a hand into her messenger bag to retrieve the white materia. The arm around her waist held her fast, and without warning, she felt cold steel against her neck. Aeris closed her eyes, her lips easily forming the words of prayer her mother had taught her so long ago. "La Mère Éternelle, dont la pitié est sans fin et inépuisable, je me soumets à votre volonté sainte..."

The 'It' laughed lightly. "Whip yourself with reeds and cover yourself in ash all you want, Cetra. Your prayers won't help you now," It taunted smoothly, the sound of its voice was low and hypnotic. Aeris couldn't help but open her eyes to look at it, though she didn't stop reciting. "Didn't help your ancestors much either." The comment was idly tossed out as the Crisis paced back and forth, skeletal hand passing over the muzzles of the now agitated creatures. "They died with their prayers on their lips... did you know that? I bet you didn't. They _died_ to imprison us, just like you will."

"...donnez à vos enfants cette paix que le monde ne peut nous donner. En vous, ô ma Mère, j'ai placé toutes mes espérances..."

"How pitiful. That they send a filthy half-breed to face us, it really is insulting," It drawled, casually ramming her hand through the nearest creature's eye socket. The thing screamed in agony before it collapsed. She let the body fall, looking at it disinterestedly. Raising her arm, she gazed at it for a moment before experimentally licking the blood from one thin finger. Her eyes rose to look the Cetra in the eye. "I had so hoped to face your mother. Such a _pity_, bleeding like a stuck pig and left to die on a dirty train station floor... carted out like she was trash and buried in a pauper's grave. Not a very fitting end for the last _true_ Cetra, don't you think?"

Aeris's jaw clicked as she forced herself not to respond. Instinctively, she understood she had to continue praying, that she shouldn't, couldn't, speak to the demon. "...dites-moi ce que je dois faire, donnez-moi vos ordres," she whispered urgently, hands clasping together as her eyes drifted to the sword.

That thing had done this. She understood now what the 'It' was. _It_ was just like Jenova; perhaps a sister or a cousin to it, but it was just the same. She had been here before, and she had not been afraid then. From inside her bag where it lay hidden, the white materia pulsed.

"Mea culpa! Mea culpa! Mea maxima culpa! Ne me mori facias! Beg, Cetra. _Beg_ for your life. You think your little word spell and that useless bauble of yours will stop me? Look where you are," It snarled, clearly worried as the hold over her long dead sister's son waned.

"Ma Mère, je prie de vous: aidez-moi, guidez-moi, fortifiez-moi."

The sword at her neck slipped, trembling in the hand of the one who held it, biting into her skin just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. And despite how much it hurt for her to speak, how really afraid she was, she raised her voice. "Je vous promets de me soumettre à tout ce que vous désirez de moi!"

Aeris felt the white materia flare as the effervescent song of the ancients rose from beneath her. There was a bright flash – almost like a mandala made of light that surrounded them -- sending the creatures and their master shrinking back away from it in fear. For a moment, she felt the briefest exhilaration. Victory was fleeting.

When the light dimmed, the creatures still stood there, whole and undamaged. The 'It', which had taken to the sky in panic, gently descended to the ground, laughing madly.

"My, what a light show your gods put on, Cetra," It sneered. "I wonder -- will they punish you for failing so entirely? Perhaps you should try another prayer."

"SHUT UP!" she cried, unable to hold onto her calm.

"Touched a nerve, have we? My, my, my... you really are quite pathetic."

Aeris's mind raced. She knew that the 'It' would kill her, knew that as surely as she knew she had no more tricks up her sleeve, other than to talk her way out. "You're the pathetic one. Why don't you just kill me yourself? What's the point of all these games?"

"Oh, games make it ever so much more fun," It purred, smiling unpleasantly, and as her eyes narrowed, it cruelly gave Sephiroth a final order. "Kill her."

The sword trembled violently at her neck, as if he were resisting. It was far too much for her to hope, Cloud hadn't been able to do it, and he'd only had a bit of Jenova in him. Sephiroth... he was lost and she would die by his hand, again. As if reading her mind, his hand snaked around her neck, fingers pressing uncomfortably into the flesh, and pulled her head closer to him. The 'It' could only smile wider, pleased that her nephew was so very compliant. She'd always admired his penchant for creative violence.

With no other avenue open to her, she began to weep.

Aeris could feel his breath on her face, the warmth of him pressing into her back and it only made cry harder. So hard, in fact, that she barely heard him whisper into her ear, until he repeated himself, whispering more forcefully this time. "Aeris, take the reigns."

"What—" Her heart leapt into her throat, eyes still sticky and wet with tears widening in disbelief.

"Don't speak. Just take the reigns. Do it slowly," he ordered shakily as he jerked the girl's head to keep up pretenses. "When I tell you, I want you to kick the bird into a run, hard and fast. I want you to head straight for that thing and I don't want you to stop. Don't hesitate. Don't change direction. Squeeze my hand if you understand."

She gulped, exhaling one long, slow breath before squeezing his free hand. Licking her lips, she inched her fingers towards the reigns. Each second seemed like eons until she touched the smooth leather; carefully hooking the leads with a finger, she drew them into her hands, all while breathing oh-so-slowly. Behind her, she could feel him practically vibrating as he fought that which thought to control him. As if it helped somehow, the arm around her waist tightened, his fingers pressing into her stomach with such force that it'd no doubt leave some kind of bruise. A violent tremor shook him. Panting harshly, he inhaled and with every ounce of strength in him, he pulled the sword from her neck. His eyes glowing with fury, he glared across the distance at the 'It' and slowly he pointed Masamune's tip at her. Even though it trembled in his hand, the threat was clear, yet the creature remained unmoved. It smiled indulgently at him as if it were greatly amused by something.

Then its mouth moved. No sound came out, but Aeris understood intrinsically what it was doing. One hand left the reigns, and clamping it over his, she began to whisper her prayers again. Aeris could almost taste the supreme agony he must have felt. Whatever it was doing to him, his entire body throbbed with it. His eyes narrowed in pain, losing focus. Sweat beaded his brow, his cheeks; all leaving wet trails down his neck and into his clothes. The large sword he held in his hand began to shake so much that she was sure he'd lose his grip. His breathing was loud and labored. Despite all this, he stood his ground and stubbornly refused to submit, no matter how much pain it put him through. He would not be controlled. Never again.

With a low, deep-throated snarl, he forced his arm to hold the sword firm; forced his recalcitrant body to obey. And this time, when he looked at the creature, he was in full control, the fire of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

"Now."

And with that one word, Aeris kicked the bird into overdrive, sending it into a flat, even run. Leaning forward to reduce wind resistance, she kept her eyes ahead, unwaveringly driving the bird onward. The wind shrieked in her ears, caused tears to form at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't stop. Behind her, Sephiroth had raised his sword; both hands wrapped tightly around it, holding it perfectly horizontal like a samurai of old. His silver hair whipping behind him wildly, he smirked at the 'It', his eyes glittering maliciously. Sephiroth concentrated, committing all his energy into his sword. The bird surged forward, and Sephiroth reared back, swinging the sword out wide. An incredible blast of energy followed the stroke, rippling through the gathered creatures like the incoming tide – it was a swift, merciless attack that reduced the frontline to dust and blew back those that had survived several feet. The thing that was and was not the Crisis took the brunt of the blow, as unexpected as it was. It let out an agonizingly long and high pitched howl, briefly dematerializing before it was torn asunder. The Crisis swiftly rematerialized, looking much the worse for wear as it goaded its brood into activity.

Aeris turned the bird just as the creatures regained their footing. They were still surrounded with no way out but the cliff. Mind racing, she was about to make another turn as the cliff's edge loomed, but Sephiroth grabbed the reigns and straightened the bird's course out.

"What are you doing?" Aeris shrieked, trying to wrest the leads from his grip.

"Trust me," he murmured huskily, sword held out behind him.

With the creatures nipping at their heels, the chocobo thundered towards the edge. Aeris held her breath and closed her eyes, the terrifying sound of the bird's footsteps and the howling wind stealing all sensation from her. Then they suddenly went weightless. The bird had jumped. Gasping, she looked, not exactly wanting to see how far she would fall before dying but out of sheer reflex. But they didn't fall; they hovered for a moment, before gently setting down on a sloping slide of rock just below cliff's edge. The bird didn't miss a beat. Its feet caught hold of the lichen covered ground, and it juddered forward; its gait uneasy, the ride bumpy, but still moving with more grace over the uneven ground than the creatures behind them ever could. The minions of the 'It' were at a disadvantage as they slipped on the skittering, loose soil of the cliff-face. Most of those who attempted to follow soon found a messy death at the bottom, and by the time they fell, their prey was long gone, galloping across the water towards freedom.

Aeris couldn't even believe it. Her breath was stolen from her as they left the rocky shore, moving smoothly across the water as ocean spray slapped against her cheeks, wetting the edge of her clothes as the chocobo ran. She looked out at the morning sun; bright strips of mauve and gold and brilliant lavender rolled out lazily from beneath the horizon as if cranked out by some heavenly stagehand. It was a new day, and she was alive. Pressing her back against her guardian, she began to laugh. It was wild, nearly hysterical, but at the same time filled with such joy. Her hand slipped over his once more and she squeezed, head tilting back long enough to whisper into his ear: "Go faster."

He smiled slowly, understanding, all too well, what she was feeling.

And as he kicked the bird into a faster run, she laughed again, more loudly this time – whooping and hollering in triumph as they rode the waves.

* * *

WOW! UPDATE AFTER A YEAR OF NO UPDATES!

Does anybody even read this anymore?

But I kid, home skillets. I hope you all like the chapter. I certainly agonized over it enough. From the research I did on horse riding (to get the bits with the chocobo just right) to the hours spent pouring over each sentence to make sure it sounded just right... it was a labor of love... all for you.

I have to thank Ardwynna for betaing this for me rather last minute. It's asking quite a lot to send someone forty one pages of anything, let alone forty one pages to look through for spelling mistakes. I've included some helpful breaks -- for those who need to take breaks in between parts of this chapter. I won't apologize for the length. It's right where I want it and I feel like after a year long wait, you all deserve a forty one page chapter. Whether or not you decide it's a gift or a punishment is up to you.

Thanks for your patience everyone!

Much love,

Anne (aka: Noa)

P.S.: About the French bits... don't worry so much about what's said. I formed them from snippets of real French prayers I found online. If the spelling or grammar is incorrect, feel free to give me hell. (Though I expect you to be able to sufficiently back up your claim.)


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